Twist of Fate
by lizfanfiction
Summary: Everyone is given a chance to live the life they thought they always wanted, but when a super bug wreaks havoc at PPTH, they all realize their true callings. Winner of The Whiteboard Awards '08: First Place Ensemble and Second Place General Story.
1. Prologue

**Title: ** Twist of Fate

**Author:** insomniac159 (Liz)

**Genre: **Horror/Drama

**Summary: **Everyone is given a chance to live the life they thought they always wanted, but when a super bug wreaks havoc at PPTH, they all realize their true callings.

**Pairings: **House/Stacy, House/Cameron, Wilson/Bonnie, Wilson/Cuddy, Cameron/Joe, many more

**Rating: **MA – To be safe. For language, adult themes, and gory/graphic descriptions

**Author's Note: **This is _not_ my usual playful story. Most, if not all, pairings are not a major part in the plot. This story is not about relationships; it's about the importance of characterization. It's about fate.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own House or any of its characters. All original characters were either created by me or are cameos of someone.

**Twist of Fate **– **By Liz**

**Prologue**

Often times in life, we are troubled by the choices we have made and where those choices have brought us. Sometimes we wonder what might have been and what could have been. Would life have been better if I'd gone to college or if I'd started my own business? The truth is you never _really _know for sure until it's too late.

But what if they _had _known? What if they could live the lives they have always wanted? What if they could fix the biggest mistake of their lives, whether it's to keep the woman they thought they loved or to finally tell a man that they loved them? What if they had stood up for what they believed in and taken a different course in life, whether it's to pursue the career they thought they wanted, or the family they felt they couldn't live without? What if they could go back and change it all? Where would they be today…?

_Allison was in the same place that she always was: the chapel. She was alone, like she always was. And she was beautiful, like she always was._

_Greg took a seat next to her in the pew without even a greeting._

_She greeted _him _though. "Greg." It was barely whisper._

"_How are you doing?" he asked her, his voice not even as loud as hers._

_Allison hesitated before she could even say a word. How _was_ she doing? She didn't really know, to tell the truth._

"_You're looking better," he said optimistically._

"_We're going to die here, aren't we?" Allison's voice was steady, calm, and blunt, much to his surprise._

"_Probably." Greg's voice was just as calm and blunt as hers._

_She nodded slowly as Greg pulled her into a reassuring hug. "There's no reason to cry, Allison."_

_Allison clung to Greg for dear life. "I'm not crying."_

What if House hadn't pushed Stacy away and what if Cameron had never left Joe? What if Cuddy had chosen to start a family and what if Wilson hadn't cheated on his? What if Chase had never left the seminary and what if Foreman had never left his family? Where would they be today…?

_Dr. Foreman shuffled through his notes on research as he approached the podium._

"_Thank you all for being here today," he began. "I'd like to start off by relaying the accounts of a very horrifying epidemic that took place several months ago at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."_


	2. One

**- 1 -**

Gregory House. Yes, what to say about Gregory House other than…

"Dude, check out that ass."

"Wow… that _is_ a sweet ass." James Wilson tilted his head to the side as he carefully observed the stunning little behind of the newest member of the Pediatric team.

House moved his stare from the new pediatrician to his best friend, Wilson, who was apparently still staring at that ass. "Dude…."

"What?"

"You're married."

Wilson rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to play _that_ card on him again, was he?

"Dude…."

"What?"

"_She's_ married."

Wilson didn't believe his friend. Really, he didn't believe him. "Oh come on; how could you possibly know that?"

"I went to college with her."

"You went to college with _her_?"

House nodded. "I nailed her once."

Now Wilson _really_ didn't believe him. "Oh, you did not."

"Yes I did."

"You did not nail _her_!"

"He didn't nail who?" A tall woman with dark hair managed to sneak up behind the two men.

They were both shocked by her stealthy appearance, and both men almost jumped.

"Jesus, Stacy," snapped Wilson as he quickly turned around. "House says that he nailed that new pediatrician when he was in college."

Stacy looked over their shoulders and at the beautiful new doctor. "Well, I could care less as long as he's not nailing her now," she said simply. "Are you almost ready to go, Greg?"

House turned away from Stacy and looked back at the new pediatrician. He nudged Wilson in his side. "Watch this."

Wilson turned away from Stacy as well and focused on the new pediatrician just in time to see the heel of her stiletto snap in half. She fell to the floor, dropping the stack of files that were in her hand.

House just laughed at the entire scene, and this earned him a smack from the woman behind him.

"What did you do, Greg?!" she asked in shock, though she really _shouldn't_ have been shocked. This_ was _House they were talking about.

Wilson looked at House in disbelief as well. "Yes, what _did_ you do, Greg?"

House opened his mouth to answer, but his response was stifled by the shouting of his boss, Dr. Andrews.

"HOUSE!"

House snapped his mouth shut and peered over Stacy's head. "Oh, Dr. Andrews, always a pleasure, what can I do for you on this lovely afternoon?"

"Where the hell is your lab coat?"

"Well, I assume it's on a rack somewhere."

Andrews was steamed. "Well you'd better get it on _you_ or you're fired. Got it?"

House bit his lip and nodded, trying to conceal his smirk all the while. House turned around to find Stacy and Wilson with their arms crossed in disapproval.

"I told you so," said Wilson.

House mocked him before wrapping his arm around Stacy's waist. He pulled her away from Wilson and towards the elevators.

"Where are we going?" asked Stacy suspiciously.

"We're going out to dinner," said House simply.

Stacy shifted uneasily. "Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, your boss seems kind of mad," she said. "Maybe you should go back and do your rounds or something."

"My patients are fine." House was getting a little upset now. Didn't Stacy trust him?

"Well, your boss isn't fine."

House rolled his eyes as the elevator doors opened. "I hope you're hungry; I made reservations at Café Spoleto."

Stacy shrugged it off and followed Greg out the front doors of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

x-x-x

Meanwhile, Wilson took this opportunity to make a new friend. He walked over to the new pediatrician and helped her pick her files up. Sure enough, she had a ring on her finger. Damn that House and his infinite knowledge.

"Here," he said with a charming smile. "Let me help you."

She smiled back at him. "Thanks. I guess that's what you get for wearing stilettos to work, huh?"

Wilson just laughed. He thought it was best not to rat out his best friend. "So, you're new here, huh?"

She nodded. "I just started yesterday."

"Pediatrics…," said Wilson. "I mean, I like kids and all, but I don't think I could ever do that."

"Oh, I'm actually and endocrinologist."

Wilson's jaw dropped slightly and suddenly he had a little more respect for the woman. "So why don't you work in an endocrinology department?"

The woman sighed. "There aren't exactly a ton of endocrinology departments, and this was the only place with an opening close to home."

"Oh, you live near the hospital?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, it's only a few blocks from here."

"Oh that must be nice."

"Yes, well, my husband and I actually chose this area for the great schools."

This woman was one shock after another and for some reason Wilson was enjoying it. "The great schools?"

"Yes, my daughter just started pre-school." She paused to laugh. "I know, I know. We'll probably move before she actually starts grade school, but forgive me for thinking into the future."

Wilson smiled. "No, I'm the same way."

"Oh, you have kids?"

"Uh, no, but we're trying." Wilson smiled as he picked the last file off of the floor. "Hey, I never caught your name."

The woman took the file from him. "It's Lisa."

"Well, Lisa, you have a—." He touched his own lips, suggesting that Lisa had something on hers.

Lisa's mouth dropped slightly as she touched her lips. She realized that her fall had caused her to smear her lipstick. "Oh, um, thank you, uh—."

"James."

"Well, thank you for all your help, James."

"Anytime," he said as he turned around to walk back to his office. "Maybe I'll see you around."

Lisa nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

Lisa took off her stilettos and walked bare-foot back to her office in Pediatrics.

A/N: Okay, so _that_ chapter was comedic, but we're still in the exposition. Just give it a few more chapters to get into the actually plot/conflict. I promise it won't be as comedic as this.


	3. Two

**- 2 -**

The next day at work was just as bad as the day before.

A new patient was admitted to the Department of Infectious Disease. He was complaining of severe fatigue, coughing, and a fever.

"He thinks it's TB," explained Andrews.

"Everyone's a doctor," said House with a roll of the eyes.

"Actually, _he_ is a doctor."

"Then why does he need us?" House enjoyed diagnosing patients, but he didn't enjoy treating them. Murder mysteries are only interesting until you know who the killer is.

Andrews stopped abruptly and stared House directly in the eyes. He needed to make this perfectly clear to House, though he had a feeling it wouldn't sink in no matter what he did. "He just needs a second opinion."

"Second to his own?"

"Yes," said Andrews. He didn't really want to go into the details with House. "Just give him a second opinion and treat him for TB."

"But what if he doesn't have TB?"

"He's a doctor too, House."

"I don't have to treat him for something if I don't think he has it, you know!" shouted House as Andrews walked away.

"He's got TB, House!" shouted Andrews as he disappeared into another corridor.

House sighed to himself. It was times like this when he thought that he should be the boss. Maybe things would run a little smoother.

Nonetheless, House grabbed the patient's file and limped down the hall until he found the room. Inside he saw a man in a hospital bed who he recognized (from media reports) as Dr. Sebastian Charles. There were two other people with him that he didn't recognize, though, a man and a woman. They must be the loved ones.

"Hello," said House not-so-cheerily. "I hear you have TB."

"You hear well," said Sebastian. "My backers just needed a second opinion."

House inhaled deeply as he read over Sebastian Charles' chart. "You don't have TB."

The man and the woman looked up at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, but…" The man paused as he searched for the ID that should be on the lab coat that House wasn't wearing, but he couldn't find it.

"House."

"I'm sorry, but Dr. House, we're going to have to disagree with you."

House frowned playfully at the young man. "I guess it's a shame that I'm the one with the chart then, huh?" House smirked as he opened Sebastian's chart to make a note. "What are you a doctor, too?"

The man stumbled. "Well, I'm an EMT, but—."

"But, I _am_ a doctor," said the woman firmly. "And I have to agree with Sebastian's diagnosis."

"Then why aren't _you_ his… second opinion?"

"They didn't think I would be a suitable doctor for him considering I work so closely with him."

House looked at the group of three with narrow eyes. "And exactly how _closely_ do you three work?"

They all assumed that House was aware of their residence in Africa.

"Well, we all share a place," said the woman. "We work with the same patients in the same clinics and camps."

House nodded. "So… pretty much, you three musketeers never leave each other's sides?"

The woman chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

House nodded. "I'll have a nurse come in to draw some blood and get a chest x-ray."

"Whoa, wait," said the woman quickly as she stopped House from leaving the room. "Why don't you just give him a skin test?"

House looked at her like she was crazy. "I told you already. He doesn't have TB."

Everyone in the room was speechless as House just walked out of the room. What a peculiar man….

House dropped Sebastian's file off at the nurses' station and ordered the tests, but not before getting yelled at by his boss once again.

"HOUSE!"

"Yes, Dr. Andrews," said House with a roll of the eyes.

"Where the hell is your lab coat?"

"I already told you! It's on a rack in my closet!"

"I'm giving you one final warning, House. Put on your lab coat or—."

"Or I'm fired?" House mocked his boss with a pout.

"Or you're fired."

House rolled his eyes.

"By the way, did you get a patient history on Sebastian Charles?"

"Damn, I knew I forgot something." House snatched the file back from the nurse he had just handed it to.

Andrews didn't seem amused though.

House put on his serious face. "Okay, so I forgot a history. But I did an examination."

"Oh you did?"

"Yes, I did," said House proudly.

"And what did you learn from this… _examination_?" Andrews looked at House skeptically.

"I don't think it's TB."


	4. Three

**- 3 -**

House was searching for a lunch date later that day, and it was then that he realized that Stacy and Wilson were both probably doing their jobs. After grabbing some fries and a Reuben, he scanned the cafeteria for possible choices. Well, Dr. Andrews was sitting alone, no surprise there. Nurse Brenda and Katie were chatting it up, and he really didn't care about the hospital's latest hotties. Speaking of hotties… Lisa was sitting alone at a table, and he hadn't talked to her for years. House ceased the opportunity and took a seat at the same table as her.

She nearly jumped as House sat down opposite her. "Oh my god… Greg?"

House smirked.

"Greg, oh my god. It's been like five years… oh my god."

"You can stop saying 'oh my god' if you want to."

Lisa rolled her eyes. He definitely hadn't changed much. "How have you been?"

"Same old, same old."

Lisa fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. "So are you seeing anyone?"

"Do you honestly think that's appropriate to ask while you're wearing your wedding ring?"

"I was just trying to start a conversation," she said. "How did you find out about my wedding?"

"Friend of mine told me."

Lisa smiled. "Oh, you still keep in contact with a lot of your college buddies?" Wait, _what_ college buddies? He had a band and he had her. That was about it.

"Nope."

Lisa was confused. "Well, then who—."

"So you work in Peds, huh? I always thought you were more interested in something a bit more challenging than crying children and runny noses."

Lisa laughed. "I'm actually an endocrinologist now."

House's eyebrows perked up. "Then why are you working here?"

Lisa shrugged. "It was the closest hospital to home."

"Then… why didn't you get a different home?"

"They have good schools here."

"Aw, you have a kid." House was just mocking her now.

"Look, if you're going to mock me, I'll find someone else to eat lunch with."

House rolled his eyes. "Like who? You were alone before I sat down."

Lisa frowned as she scanned the cafeteria. It was true; she didn't really know anyone. She was about to admit defeat, but then Wilson walked into the cafeteria. "I could have lunch with James."

"James?" House had a bad feeling now.

"Yes, James." She pointed to Wilson.

House snorted. "Good luck."

"What are you talking about?"

Teenage-girl mode. "Total player."

Lisa stared at House with narrow eyes. "You're lying just so I'll eat lunch with _you_."

"I am not."

"He seemed perfectly pleasant when I first met him."

"Yes, I'm sure he opened a door for you or offered to show you around the hospital."

"He helped me pick my files up…."

"Typical."

So many thoughts were rushing through her head at the same time. "What are you talking about, Greg?"

"Look, all I'm saying is _you're_ married and _he's _married." House shrugged.

"You aren't telling me something."

House bobbed his head from side to side, deciding if he should tell her or not. He decided to. "Before he got married, he was able to pick up practically any woman he wanted to. He actually _did_ pick up most of the women in this hospital."

Lisa sneered. "You're a pig."

"I'm telling you the truth!"

Lisa rolled her eyes as she sarcastically tried to describe Wilson's life. "But marriage saved him and he can't imagine how he ever lived without her, I suppose."

"Nope."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, then—."

"Word is that he's having marital problems."

"You're lying."

"I am not!"

"How could you possibly know all this about him?"

"We're buddies."

Lisa's jaw dropped. "You were selling out your friend?!"

"I was only trying to warn you!"

Lisa could see right through him, though. "You're an ass."

"Oh, don't act so surprised."

"I'm not surprised," she said. "Just disappointed." And that's when Lisa picked up the remaining food that she had on her tray and went to join Wilson at his table.

House watched the entire scene play out before him. He had a bad feeling about this; there was trouble on the horizon alright. He shook the thought away, though, when he realized that he was sitting at a table, alone, while observing two perfectly happy people at a table not too far from his. He definitely needed to find something better to do, so he threw the last of his fries away and got up to leave. Maybe he should be getting back to work. Hopefully the test results on Sebastian Charles were back by now.

House was on his way back to his department, but he paused as he saw a familiar face sitting in the chapel… alone. It was the young woman who he had seen with Sebastian earlier, but why was she alone? He didn't really care, but he _was_ curious, so he went in to join her.


	5. Four

**- 4 -**

House walked into the chapel and leaned against the pew that the woman was sitting in.

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know what you're doing here?"

"I guess I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

"Lots of stuff."

She didn't really want to talk to him, did she? "Why aren't you with your friend?"

"He's getting worse."

"Isn't that _more_ of a reason to be with him?"

The woman cupped her face in her hands and sighed. "It's complicated."

Oh, well, in that case, he no longer wanted to hear about it. "What's your name?"

"Allison."

House nodded.

"You know, when someone tells you your name, you're supposed to tell them yours."

"I already told you my name."

"Right… the _infamous Dr. House_." She exaggerated the final part of her statement as her eyes widened and lit up slightly. "I've always thought it was weird how people think you're such a great doctor, but you're still stuck in an attending position at a teaching hospital."

"I guess I've never had a boss who liked me."

Allison shrugged. "Maybe they'd like you more if you did your job."

"What makes you think I don't do my job?" House feigned hurt.

Allison smirked. "You're talking to me right now, aren't you? Don't you have more important things to do?"

"I'll have you know that I'm on my lunch break," insisted House.

"Oh, right."

House took a seat next to her. "What are you _really _doing here?"

"I already told you… I was thinking."

"Most people come to the chapel to pray."

"I'm not really religious."

"Then you're probably in the wrong place."

"It's quiet in here."

House nodded. He had to agree that it _was_ quiet in here. For some reason, there never seemed to be too many people, if anyone at all, in the chapel.

Allison obviously didn't want to talk to House. "Is your lunch break over yet?"

House snorted. "Very subtle."

Allison smirked. "I was only asking."

House jokingly raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, whatever." He got up and started walking out of the chapel, but he stopped when he reached the doors. "You said your friend was doing worse… What did you mean?"

"Well, if you'd done an actual patient _history_ on him—."

"I was going to do it after lunch!"

Allison rolled her eyes. "You would have realized that the reason his backers finally made us come here was because he started coughing up blood."

"He's coughing up blood?"

"Yup," she said bluntly. She didn't seem angry or even sad. She seemed like she was hiding all of her emotions deep inside, and they were locked away for good.

"But… he started coughing up blood… before you came to America?"

"Yup."

"So… how is he worse?"

"Well, his fever is up to 102 degrees," she sighed. "Face it, House. It's TB. Can we please just have the skin test and antibiotics?"

House frowned as he turned around to face her. "I still don't think Sebastian has TB."

Allison was getting mad now. She stood up from the pew and faced House. "We work with TB patients every day, all day! He was bound to catch it! The symptoms fit! Why can't you just accept that?!"

"The symptoms are progressing much too quickly!"

"Then… he has a really bad case."

"Fine, you want me to give him the damn skin test?!"

"Yes!"

"Fine! I'll give him the damn skin test!"

House stormed out of the chapel as fast as a cripple could. He ordered the TB skin test at the nurse's station before going in to inform Sebastian of the test that he ordered.

Sebastian welcomed his doctor back to the room, but not in the way that House would have liked to be greeted. Sebastian leaned forward as crippling pains shot through his stomach, and he finally vomited a fountain of blood all over House's shirt.

House jumped back slightly, but the pain in his leg suddenly made him wince as he looked at the man who was still sitting at Sebastian's bedside. "I told you it wasn't TB."


	6. Five

**- 5 - **

_Foreman cleared his throat as he began the lecture. "The patient's symptoms were similar to those of Tuberculosis. He suffered from fatigue, pallor, weight loss, fever, and prolonged coughing. He was transferred from his residence in Africa to the Department of Infectious Disease at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital when he began to cough up blood. At this point, his symptoms only worsened. His fever rose to 102 degrees, and he started vomiting blood. His doctors then reconsidered the possibility that this was not a Tuberculosis case."_

"Where the hell is Andrews?" asked House as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Wilson shrugged. "I haven't seen him all day. He's probably at the board meeting." Wilson looked at House curiously. "What happened to you?"

"A patient threw up on me," said House bitterly. "What board meeting?"

"They're having a board meeting regarding the Infectious Disease Conference," said Wilson. "I thought you were going to it. I mean, they _are_ holding it here…. That's vomit? It looks like blood."

House rolled his eyes. "It _is_ blood," he replied. "Conferences aren't really my thing; you know that."

"It's a conference on Infectious Diseases, though," said Wilson. "You really should go to it… Your patient is vomiting blood?"

House dropped his shirt in a biohazard bin and started to unbutton his pants. "That was my favorite shirt, too…."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "_I'm_ going to the conference."

"Why are _you_ going to the conference? You're an oncologist!"

"My patients are immunocompromised. They catch infections easily."

House rolled his eyes. "Yes, they catch influenza, not Dange Fever," he said. "That is the worst excuse to go to a conference that I have _ever_ heard. Why do you want to go anyways? The only reason people go to conferences is to get a free vacation out of it, but this one is in _our_ hospital, so what's the point?"

Wilson shrugged. "Fine, suit yourself."

"Can you grab me a shirt and some jeans out of my locker?"

Wilson nodded as House stepped into the shower. "You know, your shirt might not have gotten ruined if you were wearing your lab coat."

"Here we go…." House groaned.

"I was just saying!"

"Whatever."

Wilson laid a clean shirt and pair of jeans by the shower that House was in. "The board meeting should be over soon if you want to go looking for Andrews."

"Thanks."

"I'll see you later, House."

Wilson left the locker room without receiving a farewell from House, but that was typical so he didn't really mind.

As soon as House finished his shower and exited the locker room, he was stopped by a very grumpy looking Dr. Andrews.

"I was just at a board meeting," he said.

"So I heard."

"Do you know what we discussed?"

"Something about a conference I suppose."

"Oh, so you _are_ aware that there's an Infectious Disease Conference being hosted at _our_ hospital?"

"Yup."

"That's funny," said Andrews. "You see, I was reading over the roster, and your name wasn't on it."

"Must have forgotten to sign up."

"I've been telling you for weeks that I want you at that conference, House!"

House rolled his eyes, but Andrews couldn't see because he was walking behind House.

"And where is your lab coat?"

"It's… in my locker."

"Well put it on," said Andrews. "You've got patients to see."

House bit his lip. "Yes, about that—."

"What?" Andrews narrowed his eyes angrily at House.

"Sebastian Charles doesn't have TB."

"House—."

"He doesn't!" exclaimed House. "He heaved blood all over me! That is _not_ a symptom of TB."

"Tuberculosis patients have been known to cough up blood."

"He threw up on me; he didn't cough on me," said House. "Why are you so fixed on him having TB?"

"Why are you so fixed on him _not_ having TB?" Andrews' eyes widened.

"Because he doesn't have TB!"

"Just give him the skin test, and we can stop arguing about this."

"I did give him the skin test… right after he threw up all over me."

"And?"

"And we're supposed to wait 48 hours to check it," said House mockingly. When Andrews gave him a glare, though, he finished his comment. "… But it isn't showing any results yet."

"What about the blood analysis and chest x-ray?"

"Aspartate aminotransferase, bilirubin, creatinine, and alanine aminotransferase were all elevated," said House. "The chest x-ray showed fluid in his lungs."

Andrews nodded. "Find Donahue and Terry and do a differential."

House nodded his thanks to Andrews before walking back to the Department of Infectious Disease. When he arrived there, though, neither Terry nor Donahue were at their desks. There was a woman sitting in his desk, though… Allison.

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to find you."

"Why?"

"There's a problem."


	7. Six

**- 6 -**

"_The patient's pallor worsened as his skin turned to a pure white. He continued to vomit blood, though not as frequently. It wasn't long before blood started to drip from every orifice. This included the mouth, nose, eyes, ears, urethra, anus, and even his pores."_

House followed Allison into Sebastian's room. At first, he thought he could predict what she was going to say, but he was wrong.

One look at Sebastian and you could tell he was sick. His skin was a ghostly white. You could see every vein and artery running up and down his limbs. His face was a pasty white, and the red blood that fell from his nose, eyes, ears, and mouth looked almost like makeup. Unfortunately, it wasn't a costume, and it wasn't Halloween.

That wasn't what Allison was concerned with, though, and House quickly discovered her real worry.

The man that sat loyally at Sebastian's bedside started coughing, and drops of sweat fell down his face.

"Joe is sick," said Allison as one of her fragile hands covered her mouth in worry.

House immediately grabbed a thermometer and stuck it in Joe's ear. His temperature was passing 102 degrees.

"My head is pounding," said Joe as a wave of nausea swam through his stomach. He momentarily thought that he was going to throw up, but he managed to keep it down. "And I'm nauseous. My stomach feels like it's going to—." Another wave of nausea whirled through him as his stomach cringed. "—like it's going to explode."

"You have a fever, Jim."

"Joe," corrected Allison. "His name is Joe."

House rolled his eyes. "You have a fever, Joe."

"How high is it?" asked Allison, more worried than before. She assumed that he had a fever, but now that it was a reality, it was even more troublesome.

"102.6," replied House.

Allison inhaled deeply. "It's infectious."

"And it's not TB," said House. He had to make that point very clear, you know.

Allison rolled her eyes as she shifted uneasily. "We should take a blood culture and test for—."

"I'm sorry, but since when are _you_ a part of the diagnostic process?"

Allison's jaw dropped. "I'm a doctor too!"

"Yes, well, you aren't _his_ doctor," said House as he put a surgical mask on. He handed one to Allison as well. "Put a mask on and get out."

"But—."

"I said get out!"

Allison quickly walked out of the room, and House wasn't far behind her. While Allison took a seat in the waiting room, House walked over to the Nurse's Station.

"I need Sebastian Charles to be moved into an isolation room on the 4th floor," he told the nurse. "Joe –." House turned to Allison for help.

"Joe Atkins."

"Joe Atkins should be put into isolation as well."

The nurse nodded as she shuffled through her papers. "We don't have any record of a Joe Atkins being admitted."

"He wasn't admitted," said House as he grabbed the admission papers. "I'm admitting him right now."

The nurse nodded. "The isolation rooms upstairs are still under construction though."

House sighed. He had forgotten that they were in the process of adding a new department. "They have the same condition. Just put them in the same room."

The nurse nodded in understanding.

"And until then," added House. "Keep everybody out of that room unless they are clothed in gown, mask, and gloves." He pointed to the room that Sebastian and Joe were in.

The nurse nodded again. "I'll post the sign immediately, Dr. House."

House nodded as he walked away from the Nurse's Station. Allison stopped him from getting too far.

"You're having Joe and Sebastian moved?"

"I'm having them put into the isolation rooms upstairs."

Allison nodded. She was going to ask House more questions, but she got the feeling that House didn't want to talk to her at the moment. So, she backed away and returned to her seat in the waiting room. She never took off her mask, though. She knew it was only a matter of time before she started showing symptoms.

House was thankful that Allison had left him alone (she could be kind of clingy sometimes). He needed some time to think, and what better place to think than the cafeteria? Thankfully, Wilson was already taking a seat at a table. Even better, he was by himself.

"Hey," said Wilson as House took a seat across from him.

House nodded his greeting to Wilson. He grabbed the sandwich off of Wilson's tray and took a bite of it. Wilson just rolled his eyes and took the sandwich from House's hands and proceeded to eat it.

"Why aren't you at home?" House finally spoke up after several minutes of stealing from Wilson's plate and staring at him.

Wilson considered answering the question, but then he thought of a better response. "Why aren't _you_ at home?"

It was past dinner time, and neither of them was at home?

House thought about it for a moment. He didn't really mind sharing his life with Wilson, and if he told Wilson why _he_ wasn't at home, then maybe Wilson would tell him. "Stacy's been avoiding me."

"What? Why?" This was certainly news to him.

House shrugged as he stole another potato chip from Wilson's tray. "Your turn."

Wilson knew that was coming. "I can't talk to Bonnie."

"That's a shame… considering she's your _wife_."

Wilson rolled his eyes. It was a touchy topic, and House would never understand how he felt. Then again, Wilson had no one else to talk to. "Bonnie wants kids."

"And… you don't?"

Wilson didn't respond, which only confirmed House's suspicions.

"So why don't you just tell her that?"

"I already told her that I _did_ want kids."

"Why'd you do that?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, when we love a person, we do or say things because we think it will make them happy. You wouldn't understand."

House smirked smugly. It was time for a change of subject. "You know TB guy… the guy I'm treating?"

"You mean Sebastian Charles?"

"He's bleeding from every orifice."

Wilson sneered, but still took another bite from his sandwich. "Eww."

House perked his eyebrows. "And his two musketeers aren't too far behind."

"What do you mean?"

"One of his friends already has a fever, nausea, and abdominal pain."

"What about that girl… the one you talked to?"

"She's fine… for now."

Wilson frowned. "I'm sorry."

House inhaled deeply and stood up. "I'll talk to you later."

Wilson nodded his goodbyes, but his mind was elsewhere. He could see Lisa standing just outside the cafeteria. She was leaning against the wall talking into her cell phone. Wilson managed to catch the end of her conversation.

"Yes," she said into the phone. "I'll be home soon. – Yes, I'm sorry I missed dinner; I'll just pick something up at the cafeteria. – I know; I'm sorry, honey. – Okay, I'll talk to you soon. – I love you, too. Goodbye." Lisa sighed as she closed her cell phone and entered the cafeteria. He assumed that it was her husband on the phone.

Wilson quickly disposed of his tray and joined Lisa in the line.


	8. Seven

**- 7 -**

Lisa arrived at her house late that night, though it wasn't really that unusual. Her husband, Mike, had become accustomed to it, but he still didn't really appreciate it.

"I put your dinner in the fridge," he said dryly.

Lisa sighed. "I picked something up at the cafeteria, remember?"

"Well, I guess you should tell me things like that _before_ I cook dinner."

"Mike—."

"No, it's okay." Mike walked out of the kitchen.

Lisa followed her husband; she wasn't just letting this go. "Mike, it is _not_ okay."

Lisa and Mike were greeted by the site of their lovely daughter in the living room. The 4-year-old beauty had her father's appearance, but her mother's obvious intellect. As her parents continued their conversation, the young toddler stacked her blocks almost expertly. She had adjusted to her parents' patterns and had already learned to block their fighting out.

"What do you want from me, Lisa?"

Lisa grimaced. "What are you talking about?"

"I cook dinner. I pick Lily up from Preschool every damn day!"

"I know that."

"I go to work! I bring home a paycheck!"

Now Lisa was getting angry. "_I_ go to work! _I_ bring home a paycheck, too, Mike!"

"When was the last time you ate dinner with me and Lily?" Mike seemed proud and furious at the same time.

Lisa frowned as she tried her hardest to think of the last time she had sat down to a meal with her husband and daughter. "Mike, you have to understand—."

"When was the last time you picked her up from school?"

"Mike—!"

"Do you even know her best friend's name?"

Lisa opened her mouth wide to shout an answer back at Mike, but nothing came out. How could she not know the name of her daughter's best friend? She took a wild guess. "Sara…?"

Swing and a miss.

Mike picked Lily up from her blocks, and she came willingly. "She doesn't have any friends yet."

How typical! Mike was always asking her trick questions like that. Lisa knew that she wanted to talk to Mike, but she honestly had no idea what to tell him. "I'm sorry."

Mike rolled his eyes. He didn't even respond as he took the deathly silent Lily to bed.

Lisa followed Mike into Lily's bedroom. "Mike, can't we please talk?"

"What is there to talk about?"

Lisa frowned again. "I said I was sorry! You have to at least _try_ and understand what I'm going through, Mike."

Mike pulled the covers up to Lily's chin and she immediately closed her eyes to sleep. Lisa gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before following Mike out into the hallway.

"Maybe I'd have a better idea of what you're going through if you talked to me once in a while."

"Mike—."

"Let's just go to bed, Lisa."

"Mike!" she shouted. She was suddenly afraid that she had awakened Lily, but no cries or noises came from her daughter's bedroom. Lisa lowered her voice. "Mike, talk to me."

Mike heaved a sigh as he turned around and faced his wife. He crossed his arms in defense, but allowed her to talk.

"I just started a new position at a new hospital. I'm still getting settled in."

"Oh, Lisa, that's bullshit and you know it."

Lisa gasped.

"It was _always_ like this. It was like this in Michigan, and it's going to continue like this until you make a decision."

"What are you talking about, Mike?" Lisa was afraid of what she might hear next.

"I love you, Lisa. I also know that you love your job more than anything, even me."

"Mike, that's not—."

"Just let me talk!"

Lisa quickly snapped her mouth shut.

"Don't even try to deny it, Lisa. If you _really_ want to make this marriage work, if you _really_ want to watch your daughter grow up, then I suggest that you consider a career change."

"Mike, I've already made tons of sacrifices for you and Lily in my career!"

"So we're just a burden to you?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

Mike rolled his eyes again in frustration as he stormed into the bedroom. Lisa hurried quickly behind him, but he slammed the door in her face.

Annoyance and sorrow filled Lisa's heart and mind as she closed her eyes. She waited several minutes for the door to open, but it never did. Lisa eventually returned to the living room. It looked like she would be sleeping on the couch tonight.


	9. Eight

**- 8 -**

The next day at PPTH was hectic for everyone as they made accommodations and arrangements for all the incoming doctors. Today was the first day of the Infectious Diseases Conference.

"Excuse me," said a tall, dark, and handsome man. He was standing alongside a slightly shorter white man. "Can you tell me where Auditorium C is?"

Nurse Brenda was flustered as she shuffled through her papers. "Um, it's down the hall and to the right."

"That's where I just was."

"Then you must have missed it."

"It's an auditorium; how could I have missed it?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

The man rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you're too busy to show me, can you recommend someone who isn't?"

Nurse Brenda smirked as House walked by her station. "Dr. House!"

"Sorry, busy," replied House quickly as he tried to escape.

Nurse Brenda rolled her eyes. She _knew_ that was a lie, and House knew that _she_ knew it was a lie, too. It was such a shame that he couldn't outrun her. Brenda followed him quickly and stopped him. "Dr. House, could you please escort these men to Auditorium C?"

"Why do they want to go to Auditorium C?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Why don't you ask _them_ that… you know, while you're walking them there?"

House heaved a sigh as he walked back to the Nurse's Station to find two men waiting for him. They started walking down the hallway together. "Why do you want to go to Auditorium C?"

"Did she say you were Dr. House?" asked the black man.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Don't you have a specialty in Infectious Disease?"

House rolled his eyes. Here we go again. "Yes…."

"So, are you here for the conference then?"

"I work here."

"But… you aren't attending the conference?"

House stopped outside a pair of double-doors. "Auditorium C. There you go."

"But wait—."

"Have a nice day," smirked House as he tried to limp away. He didn't get very far, though, considering Andrews was in his path.

"Dr. House, what a pleasant surprise."

House kept his mouth shut.

"Did you get your name on the conference roster like I asked?"

"Nope, sorry, all full."

"That's funny, it says there's an opening right here." Andrews pointed to his clipboard.

House chewed on his lip. This wasn't going to end well for him, was it?

"I told you to sign up for the conference, House!"

The two other doctors were just standing by the door, watching the whole scene.

"Yeah…" said House. "You see, the thing is—."

"And where the hell is your lab coat?"

"It's in my—."

Andrews rolled his eyes. "Why don't you go join—." He paused to look at the nametags of the other two doctors. "Why don't you go join Drs. Foreman and Hamilton in the Auditorium?"

"I didn't sign up for the conference though." Yeah, like _that_ was going to work.

Andrews was steamed. "House—."

"Yes?"

"I'm tired of this!" he shouted loud enough for the whole hallway to hear. "You're fired!"

Well, House certainly wasn't expecting that.


	10. Nine

**- 9 -**

House stormed back to the Department of Infectious Disease. He couldn't believe that he'd lost yet another job. Okay, he could believe it, but he wasn't happy about it. At least now, maybe, he'd be able to find a job with a boss who wasn't quite as uptight as Andrews.

Thankfully, neither Terry nor Donahue were in the office when House got there. That gave him some alone time while he packed up his things.

There wasn't much inside his desk _to_ pack up, though: a game boy, an iPod, a mini whiteboard, some markers, some pens and pencils, a few books, a notepad. Other than that, House's desk was pretty much empty.

House had almost finished packing a box of his things when Allison walked into the office. Boy, she knew exactly when to come, didn't she?

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I got fired."

Her jaw dropped slightly. She was about to ask why, but then it suddenly hit her that Dr. House wasn't exactly Employee-of-the-Month. "I'm sorry."

Why was she apologizing? "It wasn't _your_ fault."

"I know that… I'm just sorry that you got fired at all." Allison walked over to the coffee maker and started a brew.

"What are you doing?"

"You seemed upset. I thought you could use some coffee."

"Patients and their loved ones aren't generally allowed to touch our stuff."

Allison rolled her eyes.

"Come to think of it, you aren't supposed to be in here at all."

"Do you want me to turn off the coffee machine?" She gave him smug look.

Well, House never refused a good cup of coffee. Then again, he'd never had a cup of coffee made by Allison before. "No, it's okay."

Allison nodded. "So, where are you going to go?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you have other job offers?"

"I was fired; I didn't quit."

Allison crossed her arms. He was definitely a tough man to talk to, and yet she kept coming back for more.

"Why are you so interested anyways?"

She thought carefully for a moment. She couldn't tell him the real reason that she was interested. "What's going to happen to Sebastian and Joe?"

"How should I know?"

Her jaw dropped. "You're their doctor!"

"They're being transferred to Terry or Donahue or some other loser who works here."

"We came here to see _you_, not them!"

House set his box down and stared at its contents. The box was half-empty. He swore he remembered having more stuff.

"You're still going to treat them, aren't you?"

"I don't work here anymore."

"Then I'll take them wherever you _do_ work."

House was becoming frustrated now. "Stop! Okay?!"

Allison jumped back, frightened by his sudden outburst.

House was slightly ashamed of the way he had yelled at her, but he couldn't deny the fact that she could be annoying at the worst of times. He settled his voice before speaking again. "Not many hospitals want to hire a guy like me."

"A guy like you?" she asked. "You're a brilliant diagnostician! What hospital wouldn't want that?"

"I'm a crippled doctor with little to no work ethic."

"Then get a work ethic!"

House snorted. "It's not that simple."

Allison smirked as the coffee machine beeped. She turned around to face it and began to work her magic. House tried to see what spices and mixtures she was adding, but he couldn't tell.

Allison finally finished the cup of coffee and handed it to House.

House took one sip of the coffee, and his eyes lit up. It was magnificent.

"Do you like it?" She was worried that she'd done something else to upset him. Why wasn't he talking?

House just nodded. "What did you put in this?"

"Just a little bit of cinnamon, sugar, and caramel on the top."

House looked down into the coffee. There had to be more to it than that. "It's good."

"Thanks." She smiled.

Allison followed House out of the office. She carried his box for him, since it's hard for a cripple to carry coffee, a cane, and a box.

House led Allison to the elevator, but he stopped short. They were right outside of Pediatrics, and he heard a familiar sound. It was crying. It wasn't a child crying, though, it was Lisa.

"What's wrong?" asked Allison, confused. She looked around for whatever House was looking for. She finally saw it, too. A female doctor was sitting in a waiting room chair. Tears slid down her cheeks as she spoke to someone on her cell phone. "Do you know her?"

House nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Allison set the box down on a chair. She was obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "Maybe I should go."

House nodded, his eyes never leaving Lisa.

"I'll just be… um… back by Sebastian and Joe's room… um… I'll talk to you later, House."

"Bye," he said quietly as Allison walked away.

Lisa finally hung up her cell phone and took several deep breaths as she cupped her face in her palm. House considered going and sitting down next to her, but someone beat him to it: Wilson.

Did this guy have radar or something?


	11. Ten

**- 10 -**

Lisa quickly put her phone away as soon as she saw James sneak up behind her. She took a deep breath when he sat down in the seat right next to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, but they both knew that it was a lie.

"You're not okay," he said. "You were crying."

"Well, if you knew that, then why did you even bother asking?" replied Lisa, bitterly.

Wilson frowned. "I was just trying to be polite."

Lisa hiccupped slightly from the crying. "I know… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—."

"It's okay, you were upset."

Why was he always so nice to her? What did he want from her? Maybe House was right about him. "I should go." She immediately grabbed her purse and started walking back towards her office.

"Wait," said Wilson quickly.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Well, I wasn't _going_ to."

"Fine," said Wilson sadly. Why had she suddenly started running away from him? "But promise me you'll tell someone."

"What?"

"You need to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you."

Lisa tried to figure out what his motives _really_ were, but she soon came to her senses when she realized that she was staring dumbly at him. She nodded.

"Maybe you should talk to your husband if you don't feel comfortable talking to me." It was an innocent suggestion, but it obviously wasn't the right thing to say.

Lisa quickly choked as she walked back to her office. "I'm just going to go… fix my makeup."

Wilson followed her. She was moving pretty fast for a woman on heels. "Lisa, wait."

She opened the door to her office, and thankfully none of her colleagues were inside. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you," he said innocently. "I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Why?"

"Because… I care about you."

"You just met me, James."

"I know you're House's friend, and I'm House's _best_ friend," he elaborated. "And… we're friends. And I just want to make sure you're alright; is that okay?"

She nodded slightly, regretting any thoughts about him that she'd had previous to his statement. She opened the door wider so he could come in.

Wilson followed her into the empty office.

Lisa immediately pulled a small makeup bag out of her purse and wiped the black mascara trails left by her tears. When her face was finally clean, she stood up. "Are you hungry?"

"Huh?"

"I skipped breakfast today," she said nervously. "I guess I just thought—."

"Oh, no, it's okay," he said. "Do you want to go grab something to eat?"

Lisa nodded. Maybe if she couldn't talk to her husband, she could talk to James.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was packed full of doctors. They were no doubt eating here during a break from one of their conference lectures.

Wilson sighed. "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

Lisa didn't seem to mind, so they drove to a nearby pizzeria. This restaurant wasn't nearly as packed as the cafeteria at the hospital, and they were seated almost immediately.

"Thank you," said Lisa quietly.

"For what?"

"For… this," she said with a shrug. "Thank you for listening to me."

Wilson smiled as he gave her a nod. "So what's going on?"

Lisa heaved a sigh. She rested her elbows on the table and her head in the palm of her hands. "My husband picked Lily—that's my daughter—up from Preschool early today."

"Okay…." It didn't seem that bad, yet.

"Lily's teacher had called Mike and told him that she suspected that something was wrong with Lily."

"What do you mean?"

"She said that Lily hasn't been making any friends."

"But she's doing fine in school?"

"She's doing excellent in school, well…"

"What?"

"She is great when it comes to counting and numbers, but she's very quiet. She doesn't talk much at all—to anyone. I always thought that was why she was having a hard time making friends."

"But it's not?"

Lisa shook her head as another tear slid down her face. "No, her teacher says that her behavior suggests that of autism."

Wilson frowned. "Lisa, I'm sure that's not true. You're a doctor, and you would have noticed. Most of the time, autism is discovered at an earlier age."

Lisa cried harder now. "It's my fault…."

The waiter came to take their drink orders, but Wilson quickly gestured him away. "Lisa, that's ridiculous. You couldn't have known."

"Yes! I could have!"

"Lisa—."

"Mike was right."

"Lisa, what are you—."

"I'm never home," she said through the tears that blackened her cheeks with mascara once again. "I can't remember the last time I spent a full evening with Mike. I don't even know my own daughter! I got so caught up in my own career that I completely ignored them. How could I do this? How could I have missed that? How… how could I?" Her tears fell harder now as regret filled her heart.

Wilson felt bad for her, genuinely sorry for the grief that she must be feeling. It was similar to his own, but much worse. "Lisa, every doctor is faced with the trouble of balancing a career and a family. Heck, everyone with a job is faced with that problem, but our jobs are so much more demanding. It's hard, and you shouldn't blame this on yourself."

"I should have been there for them more…."

"Lisa—."

"How do _you_ do it?" She frowned. All she wanted was answers to all the questions that she'd been asking herself her entire life.

"How do I do what?"

"How do you balance… a family and a career?"

Wilson thought carefully before he answered, and he knew that his answer wouldn't please Lisa, but it was the truth. "I… don't."

More tears fell down her face as she leaned against Wilson in the booth. She slipped her arms around his neck for comfort, and Wilson didn't reject. He held her closely, and before either of them knew what was going on, their lips were touching. When they both realized what had happened, they separated quickly. Blush filled their faces as guilt tightened their chests.

"I'm sorry," said Lisa quickly. She scooted away from Wilson quickly and shook her head. "I shouldn't have—."

"Lisa—."

"I should go."

The waiter came back as Lisa stepped out of the booth. "Sir, may I get you anything to drink?"

Wilson couldn't think about drinks at the moment though. All he could think about was the woman that was walking out the door.


	12. Eleven

**- 11 -**

House was usually home before Stacy, but today was different. Sure, he had been fired in the early morning, but he had spent the entire afternoon trying to come up with a valid excuse not to go home. He knew he had to talk to Stacy, but he really didn't want to.

"Where have you been?"

"I don't ask _you_ that question when _you_ come home late."

"Yes, well, you know that I always work later than you," explained Stacy. "So there really is no use in you asking _me_ where I've been."

House chewed his lip.

"There is however good reason for _me_ to ask _you_ where you've been because you run out the front door of that hospital as soon as you can."

House looked everywhere in the room but at her, and she noticed it too.

"Where were you?" she asked. "You weren't answering your pages."

Maybe because his pager was confiscated. "Those pages are for hospital emergencies only!"

Stacy rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, that's why you paged Jimmy to tell him there was a hot babe in the Clinic."

"I needed a consult."

"She wasn't even your patient!" shouted Stacy. "Besides, you're drifting from the topic."

Damn. She noticed. He might as well just get it out. It was now or never. "I got fired."

Stacy was prepared to shout some more, but she suddenly clamped her mouth down. "What?"

"I… got fired."

"Greg, I'm so sor—." She was about to comfort him, but then she stopped. "You got fired, and you're coming home late?"

Couldn't she just be supportive? He just got fired, damn it! "Um… yes."

"Shouldn't you have gotten home… early?"

He told her that he was fired, and all she cared about was where he was? He had a feeling that she_ wouldn't_ like it if he told her that he'd been sitting in a bar all afternoon thinking about Allison and about the right way to tell her he was fired. That's exactly _why_ he told her the truth. "I was at a bar."

"What? Why were you at a bar?"

"I was thinking."

"Why didn't you just come home?"

"I didn't know how to tell you."

Stacy frowned. "You can tell me anyth—."

House cut her off. "Why have you been ignoring me?"

"What are you talking about?" Stacy was afraid of this.

"Every night, I come home and you're working or—."

"I'm working on a case."

"—or you're already asleep."

"I guess I'm just tired lately… with all of the work on the case."

"You won't eat lunch with me."

"You eat lunch with Jimmy and… and that girl… Alex?"

House didn't bother correcting her. "You won't even go out to dinner with me."

"Greg!" she finally shouted at him. "You're being paranoid!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Greg, we had dinner together three days ago."

House rolled his eyes. She so wasn't getting it.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

House snapped his mouth shut, but he opened it again just as quickly. "This is more than just dinner, and you know it."

Stacy took a seat on the couch as her fidgeting worsened. "What are you saying, Greg?"

"I'm saying that you've been avoiding me for more than three days, and that I want to know why."

Stacy frowned. She remained silent for almost a whole minute while House's eyes just burned into her. "Do you remember that time that we went bowling with Jimmy and Bonnie?"

"When have we _ever_ gone bowling?" Where was this going?

Stacy heaved a sigh. "We went bowling with them right after they got back from their honeymoon. They wanted us to come over to their house so we could see their new dog, remember… Hector?"

House sneered. "Oh… that little rat."

Stacy snorted. "You remember?"

House nodded. He still didn't know where this was going.

"I think about that night every single day."

House was confused. "Why?"

"We went bowling, and you scored 180," she said. "You did so well that night. And when we went back to Jimmy's house, Hector was running all over the room, and you were just running towards him and away from him and…."

House frowned. "Stacy, what are you getting it?"

"You'll never do that again."

"Stacy—."

"And it's my fault." A tear slid down her face.

"It's not your—."

She suddenly turned angry. "Don't even pretend that you aren't just a little bit upset!"

"Why are you yelling at me?!"

"I'm yelling because I can't handle this anymore!" She stood up form the couch as more tears were shed.

"You can't handle what?" House was leaning against the wall for support.

"This!" she shouted as she opened her arms wide. "I can't handle this! I can't look at you without thinking what your life could have been like if I'd never come along. I can't look at you without wondering how much better off you'd be without me! I can't… I can't look at your leg without hating myself. I can't take it anymore!"

She actually felt guilty for crippling him? "Stacy, don't—."

Stacy closed her eyes and put her hands up in defense. "No, please, don't." She hiccupped slightly as she ran into the bedroom.

House followed her as quickly as he could. When he got to the bedroom, he saw that she was dashing from the closet to the bed and back, obviously packing a bag. "What… what are you doing?"

"I told you!" she shouted. "I can't take this anymore."

"Stacy—."

"Please, just… I can't, Greg," she pleaded. "If you care for me at all, then you'll let me do this."

House was so shocked, confused, angry, depressed. There were so many words to describe how he was feeling at that moment, and yet he couldn't express any of them. He kept his mouth shut as Stacy grabbed her bag and stormed out the front door in a hurry. So much had happened in one day. He had lost his job of seven years and his girlfriend of six. What was he supposed to do now?

Break out the liquor.


	13. Twelve

**- 12 -**

House wasn't the only one to have a bad night, though. His three friends were having struggles of their own.

Wilson arrived home on time, for once in his life. Bonnie, his wife, had been rather upset with his increasing absences, but he knew that he needed to do everything right tonight (if that was even possible), or he'd be in big trouble.

"You're home early," she said with a smile. She walked down the stairs of their house, and their small white dog followed her.

Wilson gave Bonnie a kiss on the cheek before picking Hector up and greeting him as well. "It's 7:00."

Bonnie shrugged. "It's still early… for you."

Wilson set Hector down on the ground, and the dog immediately ran away. "I need to talk to you."

Bonnie frowned. "What's going on?"

Wilson didn't know how to say it, so he just blurted it out. "I don't want to have kids."

Bonnie was both confused and upset. "But you… you said that you _did_ want kids. You said—."

"I only said those things because I thought it would make you happy."

Bonnie was a little peeved. "So what did you think would happen when we actually _did_ get pregnant?"

Wilson hadn't really thought about it. "I guess I thought… I thought that I would adjust."

"But you don't _want_ to adjust?"

Wilson shook his head in the negative as his pager started going off. That was sure to set Bonnie off as well.

x - x - x

Lisa was late coming home, just like Mike thought she would be. He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would make it a point to come home early _tonight_ of all nights, but she didn't.

"We need to talk," he said right as she walked through the door. He could see that her makeup was smeared, probably from crying, and she seemed weaker than usual. He felt bad for her, but only briefly. If she was in that much pain, then why didn't she come home to him?

"I'm so sorry, Mike," she said as she started to cry again.

Now Mike was starting to feel like the bad guy, but he wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't the bad guy. "Why are you crying?"

She sobbed some more, and Mike pulled her into a hug. "Why do you think I'm crying?" It was all she managed to get out. She knew if she said anything out loud, it would just upset her some more.

"Why didn't you just come home? Why won't you just talk to me, Lisa?"

"I was afraid," she said.

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of this," she said. "I was afraid that I'd anger you or push you away or—."

"Lisa, stop! You're putting too much pressure on yourself." How did she manage to make _herself_ the victim here? Man, she was good. He pulled away from the hug. "Lisa, we have to talk."

Lisa nodded. She knew what was coming.

"I'm not mad at you for not recognizing Lily's autism."

She continued to cry.

"I'm not mad, I'm really not," he assured her. "I'm just disappointed… that's all. I know how hard this must be for you. I know how much you love your job, Lisa. I don't want to be the one to take that away from you."

"But you still want me to quit my job…."

"Lisa, I want you to do whatever makes you happy," he said. "But I'm telling you right now, that if you go on like this, you are going to miss out on me. You are going to miss out on_ Lily_."

She nodded as more tears slid down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

Mike didn't say anything else as he left the living room and went to bed. Lisa sat on the couch for a few moments, trying to compose herself, but she couldn't. She eventually walked into her daughter's bedroom. Surprisingly, the toddler was still awake. The mere sight of Lily made her smile. She took a seat on the side of her daughter's bed and leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"I love you so much, Lily," she said quietly. Deep down, she started to wonder if Lily even understood her. She knew that autistic kids could understand. She knew that they could think. She just had troubles believing that her only child would spend the rest of her life struggling to communicate the thoughts that ran through her mind.

Lily may not have been able communicate verbally with her mother, yet, but she still knew exactly how to express her love. She saw the tears that were pouring from her mother's eyes, and she quickly wiped them away with her hands.

Lisa chuckled lightly as Lily gave her mother's wet cheeks a kiss. "I guess that means you love me too."

Lily didn't nod or smile. She just stared at her mother with her piercing grey eyes. And Lisa pulled her daughter into a much needed hug that drenched them both with tears.

x - x - x

Bonnie pulled Wilson's pager from his belt clip and looked at the reading. The number on it was House's home phone number. How typical. He was always getting in the way of their marriage at the worst of times. She threw his pager out the window.

"Hey!" said Wilson, but he regretted saying it right away. He glanced out the window to watch his pager fall into a bush.

"If you'd rather talk to him than me, than I suggest you try and rethink which marriage you want to be in."

Wilson scowled. "How could you even say that? You know that I love you!"

"And yet you lie to me about something as important as children!"

Wilson's cell phone started to ring, and Bonnie tossed it out the window as soon as she saw who the caller was: House.

Wilson's jaw dropped. "How do you know that wasn't an emergency?"

"If it's an emergency, then he can call back."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm going to bed."

"No, _I'm_ going to bed," she said firmly. "You're going to the couch."

Wilson didn't even have the strength to fight with her. He knew this was going to happen. He knew there was no way he could break it to her easily. He knew that this was never going to end well.

x - x - x

Allison sat in a chair in the small space between Sebastian's and Joe's beds. She couldn't bear to watch one of her dearest friends and her boyfriend suffering at the same time. It was just too much.

Sebastian's fever was getting higher, and his skin was becoming whiter and whiter as more and more blood dripped from his body. Even his sweat was bloody. He looked like a zombie from one of the horror movies that Allison now refused to watch ever again.

Joe didn't look quite as bad as him. His fever had gone above 103, and he'd been sleeping much more ever since the nausea and dizziness started to kick in. Joe and Allison both knew what was ahead of them, but they both did their best to deny it.

Sebastian was being treated with everything Terry, Donahue, and Andrews could possibly think of: fluids, electrolytes, antibiotics, everything. None of it was working though.

She knew that Sebastian was dying, and that's why she called the hospital's clergy. She wasn't religious, but Sebastian _was_. He knew that he was dying, too, and he insisted upon having his last rights read to him.

It wasn't long before a young, blond priest entered the isolation room covered in a gown, gloves, and mask. His white collar couldn't even be seen. "Hello, Sebastian," he said. "My name is Father Chase."

Sebastian greeted the father, but Allison couldn't take it. She couldn't hear her friend's last rights being read to him.

Allison smoothed down her mask and gown as she got up to leave the isolation room. Just as she began to walk away, though, Sebastian flat lined. Allison knew that she wasn't employed at this hospital, and she knew it wasn't proper protocol, but her friend was dying. She called a code blue and rushed to the defibrillators.

She tried jump-starting Sebastian's heart for several minutes, but it was a lost cause. Most of his internal organs had already begun shutting down or were in complete failure, and after his flat line, his brain was sure to be toast by now.

"Time of death… 10:37 pm."


	14. Thirteen

**- 13 -**

"_The patient died four days after his admittance. The autopsy results showed that he died of systemic multi-organ failure, and samples of his blood were sent to the laboratory for analysis. He wasn't the only one who was sick anymore. By the time of his death, the patient had spread the disease to at least two other people."_

House awoke with a killer hangover, although he probably deserved it after the massive amount of drinking he did the night before. He needed it though. He needed to forget about things for a while. Unfortunately, 'a while' was over, and now he just felt like crap again.

House turned over in bed and winced as pain shot from his leg all the way up into his abdomen. House was confused. That had never happened before. Nonetheless, he grabbed a vicodin and popped it in his mouth as he staggered towards the bathroom. It took him a while, but he finally made it.

He was ready to vomit, but that's when he realized that he didn't have to. His stomach was cramping and his head was pounding. That seemed odd to him; most of the time, he had to throw up when he had a hangover. He dismissed the inconsistency and walked over to the sink to brush his teeth. That's when he got a good look at himself in the mirror.

He was flushed and sweating. That definitely never happened when he had a hangover. He pulled out the thermometer and stuck it in his mouth. He leaned his weak and exhausted body on the sink for support while the thermometer took a reading.

It finally beeped, and he pulled it out of his mouth. "103.6?" he asked aloud. There was no one to hear him say it, but he was still startled. What was going on? He tossed the thermometer in the sink and limped back into the bedroom. He called the first number that he could think of: Wilson.

There was no answer, so he paged him. There were no calls. Where was Wilson and why wasn't he answering his pages and calls?

House finally decided to just drive himself to the hospital and find Wilson there. It wasn't the best idea to be driving in his condition, but it was the only plan he could come up with in his state.

Thankfully, he actually did manage to make it to PPTH without getting in an accident. He considered walking to the elevator and riding it up to the 4th floor to Wilson's office, but he really didn't have the energy. Instead, he took a seat in the chapel and hoped that Wilson, Lisa, or somebody else he knew would walk by.

As luck would have it, somebody did notice him, but not by chance. Allison was coming to sit in the chapel to… what did she say she did in there? Think? Well, Allison was coming to the chapel to 'think,' and that's when she found House.

"Oh my god. Greg, are you okay?"

House nodded. "You've never called me Greg before." He liked it.

"I thought since you were no longer our doctor, I no longer had the obligation to call you House."

So she thought of him as a 'Greg' and not as a 'House'? How odd.

"Are you okay?" she asked again.

"Just a little hot I guess."

She felt his forehead. "You're burning up. Did you take your temperature this morning?"

"103.6."

She nearly gasped. "What?! Why didn't you call someone? Did you drive down here yourself?"

House nodded again. "Wilson wasn't answering his phone."

"Wilson—Wilson—." She scanned her mind for quick answers, but no results were coming up. "Who's Wilson?"

"Dr. Wilson."

"Dr. Wilson…." She tried to think of any Dr. Wilson that she'd ever heard of, but she couldn't. Luckily, the priest that she had met briefly last night walked out of his office and into the chapel.

"Miss Cameron… you look upset, is there anything I can do to help?" he asked in his sing-song Australian accent.

"Oh thank god," she said. "I need some help, Father Chase."

Father Chase looked briefly at the sick man in the pew. "Is he okay?"

"That's what I need help with," she said urgently.

"With all do respect Miss Cameron—."

"Dr. Cameron."

"Dr. Cameron? If you're the doctor, then what do you expect _me_ to do?"

"I need you to find Dr. Wilson, and please hurry."

Father Chase nodded and quickly ran out of the chapel.

Allison immediately turned to House, both angry and afraid. "What were you thinking, driving here on your own?! You're fever is almost at 104 degrees! You could have gone into convulsions, dammit!"

"What did you expect me to do?"

"Um… call 911?!"

House rolled his eyes. "Why do you care anyways?"

"I don't want to see you get hurt… or worse… die."

She wiped the sweat from his head again. "You're really hot."

"Thank you."

She rolled her eyes. He was border-line delirious, and he could still snark. He would always be a mystery to her. "Wilson's on his way."

Right as Wilson followed Chase into the chapel, House started to cough.

Allison immediately jumped from her seat. "Oh my god," she said.

"What is it?" asked Wilson.

"This can't be happening," said Allison quietly.

"What's going on?" asked Wilson. He took a seat next to House in the pew and felt his forehead. "Jesus, House, you're burning up."

"He needs fluids," said Allison quickly. "And if that doesn't work, we may have to try an ice bath."

Wilson looked at her oddly. Who did this chick think she was?

Allison blushed and offered her hand. "Um, sorry. Dr. Allison Cameron."

Wilson shook her hand. He turned to Chase. "Go get me a nurse and a gurney."

Chase immediately did as he was told, and it wasn't long before House was admitted as a patient.

"Have him put in Room 421," suggested Allison. "And pump fluids immediately."

Wilson was confused. "But… that's the isolation room. That department is still under construction."

Allison nodded. "My boyfriend is in there. They have the same thing."

Suddenly Wilson remembered everything that House had told him about his patient, and he hoped to god that they could find a treatment for whatever infection was spreading throughout their hospital.


	15. Fourteen

**- 14 -**

"_The two patients were put into isolation together. They both received chest x-rays and blood tests to monitor the progression of the disease. Blood cultures were also taken from the two patients to test for various infections. Results on the autopsy's cultures had yet to come back from the laboratory."_

Wilson walked meekly into Andrews' office. "Have you got the autopsy results back on Sebastian Charles yet?"

Andrews was confused. "He wasn't your patient."

"I know," said Wilson. "He was House's patient."

Andrews looked at Wilson knowingly. "What's going on?"

"House came into the hospital this morning."

"What? I fired him!"

"You fired House?" Wilson frowned but dismissed the thought when he realized there were more important matters to discuss. "He's sick."

"House is sick?"

Wilson nodded, and Andrews became worried.

"What are his symptoms?"

"Fatigue, severe headache, abdominal pains, and a fever that's dangerously close to 104 degrees," he said. "He was borderline delirious when _I_ finally got to him this morning!"

"When _you _finally got to him?" asked Andrews. "Who did he see first?"

x - x - x

Allison wiped the sweat from House's forehead and heaved a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes. "Oh, thank god you're awake."

"What are you doing here?" He opened his eyes to see that Allison was standing at his side, dressed in the usual gown, mask, and gloves.

"They put you in the same room as Joe."

"It's the only room there is," sighed House. He struggled to sit up but finally managed to. "Why aren't you over there, comforting your boyfriend?"

"He's asleep." Her voice fell as she mumbled the word, "Again."

"I'm surprised they don't have you in a full out hazmat suit."

Allison chuckled. "Besides the fact that your hospital doesn't have those in stock yet, they also didn't find it necessary."

"Why not?" House stuck his hand in a bowl of ice chips that Allison handed to him and began chewing on them.

"They don't think the disease is airborne," she said. "No one in Africa is sick… I mean… besides the TB."

"There's no way to tell if they have TB or whatever we have, unless we cure them all. And, while I'm sure that would please you immensely, it's just not possible."

Allison frowned. "Nobody else is sick at the hospital, as far as we know. Have you come in contact with anybody else ever since we came here?"

House tried to think of every person he had been with in the last week, but not many people were coming to mind. He shook his head.

"Do you want me to call someone?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… Dr. Wilson is talking to your boss—er, ex-boss—right now. Is there anyone else that you want me to call and let them know that you're here?"

House considered Stacy, but he suddenly decided against it. She would find out on her own eventually, and he didn't want Allison to be the one to tell her.

"What about that woman that I saw… you know, the one who was crying?"

God, she was so stubborn. "You just can't take no for an answer, can you?"

"There has to be someone who cares that you're here. A brother or sister? A roommate or girlfriend?"

There was no one, not anymore. "She left me."

Allison was suddenly uncomfortable again. "I'm sorry, I didn't—."

"It's okay," he said. He tried to make light of it. Maybe it would make the split easier. It probably wouldn't, but there's no harm in trying. "She said she felt guilty." He chuckled, though he didn't know why.

Allison rubbed the back of her neck. She felt rather out of place, but she got the feeling that he needed to talk to someone. "Why did she feel guilty?"

"She crippled me."

Allison suddenly saw the cane that was leaning against the bureau. Now that she really thought about it, she remembered him using the cane, but she wondered why she didn't think of it right away. "She… crippled you?"

"She _thinks_ she crippled me."

"But… she didn't?"

"It's a long story."

Allison didn't want to push him. She could tell that he was becoming uncomfortable already, and it was no shock to her that he quickly changed the subject.

"Where's your other friend?" House looked around the room in search of his former patient.

Allison frowned. She had really hoped that she wouldn't have to talk about it, but it looked like she was going to have to. "He passed away last night… multi-organ failure."

House quickly stopped looking around. "I'm sorry."

She didn't want to think about it at the moment. It was a tough stage in her life, and she would eventually get past it, but right now, she wanted to ignore it. The worst was yet to come, and she wanted to be there for Joe and Greg now. "It's okay," she assured him. "It's going to be okay."

House looked down at his arm. There was a small bruise forming inside of his elbow.

"They drew some blood," said Allison.

House nodded. "What are they looking for?"

"They're running cultures."

"Which cultures are they running?" House wanted specifics.

She was evading. "Until the biopsy results come back on Sebastian, we won't know which cultures to run on you or Joe. Right now, they're just checking for common infections."

Unfortunately, they _both_ knew that whatever Sebastian Charles died of was _not _common at all.


	16. Fifteen

**- 15 -**

"_The cultures taken from the deceased patient were finally completed, but the results weren't favorable."_

House was flipping through channels on the television, but there didn't seem to be anything interesting on. He considered talking to Allison, but then it occurred to him that they really had nothing to talk _about_. She was reading a book anyways.

Thankfully, Wilson interrupted the awkward silence by paying them a visit. He, like all of their visitors, was dressed in clothing to prevent any possible transmission of the disease. He was carrying two files in hand, which made House a little curious.

"Whose files are those?" he asked immediately.

"Uh… yours and Joe's."

"I'm not your patient."

"Fine," said Wilson stubbornly. "I'll turn you over to Donahue."

"No thanks," said House quickly. "I'm good." He really didn't approve of his former colleagues in The Department of Infectious Disease. They were a bunch of idiots, in his opinion. Wilson was an oncologist, and he probably knew more about tropical diseases than them.

Wilson smirked. "I thought so."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the conference right now?" asked House.

Wilson raised the two files. "I have patients; the conference can wait."

House tried to chuckle, but it only came out as a cough.

Allison had put her book down right when she heard Wilson walk into the room, and she was becoming impatient. "What do their test results say?"

"I'll start with Joe," he said. He opened the file. "Low platelet count, _very_ low white count, but aspartate aminotransferase and alanine aminotransferase are elevated."

"Like Sebastian…."

"Like Sebastian," confirmed Wilson. He opened House's file.

"Please say it's good news, doc," joked House. He knew how serious the situation was, and that's exactly why he was trying to avoid confronting it.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "So far, you've only got low platelets, but your white count is also plummeting."

"What about the chest x-rays?" asked Allison urgently.

Wilson pulled them out examined them closely. "Joe has a lot of fluid build-up in his lungs."

Allison glanced at her sleeping boyfriend, wishing there was something that she could do. She knew there wasn't.

"And House… you have fluid build-up as well."

House coughed. "I could have told you that."

Wilson rolled his eyes again. "Yours isn't as bad, though."

"Yeah, give it a few days," said House dryly.

"What is your problem?" asked Allison. "Don't you care that you could be dying?"

"Everybody's dying," said House.

"Oh, that's enlightening," sighed Allison. She turned to Wilson. "Are you any closer to a diagnosis yet?"

Wilson chewed his lip nervously. "The tests on Sebastian should be finished shortly, hopefully by tonight."

Allison nodded. "So, we'll know what this is, and we can treat it, right?"

Wilson smiled. "That's the plan. For now, I'd like to keep them both on fluids and antibiotics. Please, let me know if there are any changes in their condition."

House watched as his best friend gave Allison a not-so-subtle smile as he handed her his business card. Was that jealousy he felt? No, couldn't be. He just met the girl.

"I've got other patients to see," said Wilson. "If there are any changes, though, just page me and I'll be here in a heartbeat."

Allison nodded. "Thank you, I will."

Wilson waved his farewells to Allison and House before leaving the isolation room.

"What was that all about?" asked House.

"What are you talking about?"

"He gave you his card…." House was being playful, but it was getting harder and harder not to reveal his jealousy.

"Yeah, so."

"You could have just paged him over the intercom," reasoned House. "He didn't need to give you his card."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Here we go."

"I was only saying."

"Do you want me to throw the card out?"

"You would throw out that card?!" House joked. "For all you know, that could be the only man who can save my life, and you're going to throw it out?!"

Allison was confused. Was he playing games with her? She shook her head and set the card on the bureau.

x - x - x

Andrews was searching for House's nonexistent billings when Dr. Terry and another woman walked into his office.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Dr. Andrews," said Terry, "This is Dr. Pike. She's a pathologist from the CDC."

"Have you finally got those results on Charles' autopsy yet?" asked Andrews. He stood up from his desk in anticipation.

Pike nodded. "He died of systemic multi-organ failure brought on by the Ebola virus."

Andrews sighed. That _definitely_ wasn't the good news that he'd been hoping for.


	17. Sixteen

**- 16 -**

"_It wasn't long before more people fell ill with symptoms similar to those of the Ebola patients. One by one, they were rushed to the hospital for isolation and treatment."_

Two days had come and gone.

House's coughing had become more and more persistent, and he was sleeping much more than he had several days ago. He said he just didn't want to deal with the nausea, but Allison knew he was really just exhausted.

Joe wasn't doing much better, either. As the days progressed, he grew more and more tired, and more and more pale. Allison knew what was going to happen to both of them, but she didn't want to accept it.

She had already watched two of her loved ones die, and she wasn't sure she could handle much more of this. Whenever both House and Joe drifted off into sleep, she would sneak out of the room and wander off to the chapel to think things over. She would make sure to check in on them every hour or so, just in case. It never really did any good, though.

"Who are you praying for?" asked Father Chase. He walked up to Allison. He had seen her days ago when he had given Sebastian Charles his last rights, so he wondered why she was still here.

"I wasn't praying."

"Then… why are you in the chapel?"

Was she going to have _this_ conversation again? "I was just thinking."

Chase nodded. A lot of people came here to think. "I'm sorry about your friend."

Allison frowned. She knew he meant Sebastian. "According to him, he's in a better place now."

_According to him?_ "You don't believe in God? In heaven?"

Allison shook her head in the negative.

"That must be miserable," he said blandly.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

She was the most beautiful woman that Chase had ever seen, but tears of fear and sorrow had dulled her green eyes to a pale grey. "It must be hard to think that… _this_ is it."

Allison shrugged. She was about to respond to Chase, but then she heard a slightly familiar voice in the hallway. "Excuse me," she said.

Chase nodded as Allison got out of her pew and left the chapel.

When Allison was in the hallway again, she looked up and down the corridors to see where the voice had come from. Then she saw it. The voice belonged to Lisa. She hadn't talked to the woman much, but Lisa had come into visit House once.

This time, her voice was just as worried and frantic as it always was when Allison spoke to her. "Lisa—."

"Get her to Iso-1!" she shouted and got out of the way of a passing gurney. She turned around when someone spoke her name. "Oh… um… Allison, right?"

Allison nodded. "Iso-1? Is there another Ebola patient?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes." She walked away without giving Allison much detail. She seemed a bit distracted.

Allison was curious to see the new patient, but she knew that she should also be getting back to House and Joe. Maybe they were awake by now.

When the whole crowd got to the isolation room, a beautiful little girl was taken off of a gurney and placed into a hospital bed. Her beauty was masked by pools of sweat that poured over her flushed body, though.

"Why didn't you call me earlier?" Lisa yelled at the man by the little girl's bedside.

The man frowned. "Because… because I didn't think you would come anyways. I didn't want you to worry."

"Well I'm worried now," said Lisa bitterly.

The man was about to respond, but the little girl started shaking rapidly.

"What's going on?!" he shouted.

Allison knew that this was a lot for them to handle, so she took over. "She's going into convulsions," she said quickly as she turned to a nurse who was just about to leave the room. "We need ice packs and cooling blankets! Start her on a drip of saline, stat!"

The nurse ran out of the room to get the requested items, and Allison turned the girl onto her side. "She's got a fever of 106," she said in shock. "Hurry up with those ice packs, will you?!"

Several nurses came back with the ice packs, blankets, and saline. Cameron started the IV while nurses poured water all over the girl's body and applied the proper ice packs.

When she finally stopped seizing, the nurses left the room.

"What does she have?" asked the man. "What's wrong with Lily?" He looked at his wife.

Allison answered for her though. "She's got the Ebola virus."


	18. Seventeen

**- 17 -**

The isolation room was getting crowded with three patients and their loved ones now, but that was just the start.

The day after Lily's admission, two more people arrived at PPTH complaining of fever, chills, and a sore throat. Of course, they would have been sent away with a diagnosis of the flu if Andrews hadn't recognized one of them ahead of time.

"Dr. Pike," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to be put into isolation," said the pathologist.

"Wait, you mean—."

They both nodded before he could even finish his question. Andrews frowned. "Our isolation room is already full… past full, actually."

"What do you mean?" asked Pike bitterly. "We got this disease by doing an autopsy on one of _your_ patients. And now you're denying us treatment?"

"Dr. Pike, please calm down," pleaded Andrews. "That's not what I'm saying, it's just—."

"It's just what?" asked the other pathologist, also a female.

"I don't have any completed isolation rooms yet," said Andrews. "The Department of Diagnostics is still under construction. I could put you in Infectious Disease, but it's a biohazard."

"The disease is transmitted through bodily fluids and tissues," said Pike. "It's not airborne! We can be put into a standard room as long as our doctors are fully gowned and protected."

Andrews was reluctant, but he finally agreed to treat them. He dialed a number on his phone. "Donahue? I have two more Ebola patients. – Yes I know the isolation room is full. – I'm putting them in your department. Can you and Terry handle it? – Thank you." He hung up the phone. "Let me get your admission papers."

"Thank you," said Pike's colleague.

Andrews pulled out several clipboards, but his phone rang again before he could hand them over to the two newest victims of the virus.

"Andrews," he answered. "What do you mean there are more? – Two nurses? – Do you have enough room in your department? – I'll make the calls."

"What was that about?" asked Pike.

"There are two more reported cases of Ebola," said Andrews. "The nurses who attended to Sebastian Charles are coming down with the symptoms. We're having some of our less ill ID patients transferred to Princeton General for care so that we can contain the virus here."

The two pathologists nodded and took the clipboards from Andrews.

x - x - x

Wilson was doing his morning rounds when he had an unusual surprise. It was Stacy.

"Hey," said Wilson with a smile as best he could manage.

"Hey," she replied. "I brought you some coffee." She handed him the cup, which Wilson took gratefully.

"How long?"

"How long… what?" asked Wilson.

"How long before you were going to tell me that Greg was in the hospital?"

Wilson frowned. "He made me promise not to tell you."

"Oh come on," said Stacy. "You and I both know that you've got the biggest mouth in this hospital."

"Hey!" whined Wilson. She was right, of course, but it was still insulting!

"How long?" she repeated.

Wilson sighed as they approached another door. He stopped before entering the patient's room, though. "I was going to call you when his symptoms progressed to the final stage…." He shook his head in denial. "I mean… _if _his symptoms progressed to the final stage."

Stacy frowned. "You were going to wait _that_ long?"

"He made me promise not to tell you, Stacy."

"Why would he make you promise something like that?"

Wilson shrugged. "That's something you'd have to ask him yourself."

"Thanks, Jimmy," she said with a growing frown.

"I knew he would have wanted you there when he died… even if you guys were separated."

Stacy nodded in regret.

"Thanks for the coffee," said Wilson as he left Stacy alone in the hallway and entered his patient's room.

"So," he said with an obviously forced smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"Not so good," said the woman. She was in her 30s, but cancer had taken a large toll on her life.

Wilson frowned. "What's going on?"

"I've been coughing more and more," she said.

"Lung cancer can do that to you," sighed Wilson.

"But I've been coughing up blood," said the woman.

"That can happen as the cancer progresses," sighed Wilson.

"Does this mean that I'm not getting better?" She frowned as Wilson continued his check-up.

"You have a fever."

"A fever?"

"It's low," he said. "But you shouldn't have one."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Have you had any sick visitors lately?"

The woman shook her head. "The only person that's visited me is you."

Wilson frowned. There was a chance that she'd just picked up a hospital infection, maybe MRSA, but he doubted it. "I'm going to run another blood test on you, Catherine."

"Another blood test?" she asked. "For what?"

"I'm going to test you for… for possible infections." Watching House get sicker by the day was really wearing Wilson out. He knew deep down that the chances of one of _his_ patients having the virus were little to none, but as he thought of House, he didn't want to take anymore chances. "I'll have the test results back soon," he added. "You should probably get some rest."

Wilson carried the blood samples that he had taken from Catherine and began to walk back towards the Pathology lab to run some tests. He tried to think of all the possible ways that Catherine may have caught the virus, but he couldn't think of any at all if he was the only person she'd seen.

He passed the isolation room that contained House, Joe, and a little girl whom he had never seen before. Lisa and a man whom he also hadn't seen before were sitting at the child's bedside. Was that the daughter that Lisa had told him about? Did she have the virus, too? How could she?

That's when Wilson rubbed his fingers over his mouth as he remembered the brief kiss that he'd shared with Lisa not too long ago. No, that couldn't be it… but… how else could her daughter have gotten the virus?

Wilson stared down at the samples in his hands. Could he have passed the virus onto Catherine? No, he wasn't even sick!

He tried to dismiss the thought as he rushed to the Pathology lab, but he was troubled by the simple idea that the illnesses of Catherine and Lisa's daughter could be his fault.

The first culture he ran on Catherine's blood was MRSA. Negative.

C-difficile: Negative.

VRE: Negative.

Influenza: Negative.

Negative. Negative. Negative. Infection after infection, and they were all negative.

So why did she have the fever?!

Wilson panicked as he took the last few drops of her blood and ran an immunofluorescence test. It wasn't possible, was it?

Ebola: Positive.


	19. Eighteen

**- 18 -**

"_Several nurses in the Department of Infectious Disease fell ill with the Ebola virus, and two pathologists were also admitted. The biggest surprise, though, was when an Oncology patient tested positive for the virus. The tests were rerun twice, confirming the infection. Her oncologist, as well as several infectiologists and epidemiologists began to question the source of the virus." Foreman set his paper down and scanned the next page. "As more and more people began to present with the early symptoms of the virus, more and more people also started evacuating the hospital, including staff and visitors."_

Wilson couldn't believe that Catherine had the virus. There was no way she could have gotten it! She'd been in her room ever since her admission, and according to her, he was the only person she ever saw. Of course, there were nurses to consider, and maybe other oncologists. But no! He was the only one who had been in the isolation room (unless his interns were doing something with House behind his back, but he didn't think that was a likely answer). No, he _had_ to have the virus.

Wilson put Catherine's blood down in a tray and called over the nearest pathologist.

"What?" The obviously bitter and tired doctor asked him.

"I need some help over here."

"With what?" The pathologist walked over towards Wilson in the lab.

Wilson grabbed a rubber cloth and held it under his arm. "Tie this off, will you?"

The pathologist was alarmed by Wilson's frantic nature. He glanced over Wilson's shoulder and saw many papers sitting on the counter behind him. They were test results. He focused his eyes and managed to read the results of the top page. Ebola…. The pathologist quickly backed away and shook his hands. "Oh, no, no, no! Find someone else!"

Wilson was confused, but a glimpse at the papers behind him gave him his answer. "Those aren't my lab results!"

The man was getting more and more afraid now as he backed away towards the lab's door. "Well, they were someone's, and you were obviously near them!"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I just need help with a blood draw!"

"Sorry, man." The pathologist shrugged and quickly dashed out of the lab.

Wilson sighed. He looked around the pathology laboratory. He was the only one in there. There were no nurses, technicians, or other pathologists. Where was everyone?

Wilson grabbed the necessary tools for a venipuncture and headed towards the isolation room where House, Joe, and Lily were all staying.

House was awake when he entered, and he was surprised to see Wilson. "What are you doing here?"

"I need some help."

House looked at the tools in Wilson's hands. He shook his head in confusion. "You already drew our blood."

"I need you to draw mine."

House's mouth fell open slightly, but he closed it. "I could infect you."

"I think I have the virus, House."

"That's insane," he replied. "You don't even have any symptoms."

"One of my patients is sick."

"So she caught it from a nurse, or one of your interns, or maybe a pathologist."

Wilson shook his head again. "She said I'm the only person she's seen!"

House sat up straight and cringed as pains shot up his side. His eyes closed tightly.

"Are you okay?"

House took a deep breath in the hopes that it would help block out the pain. "I'm as good as I'll ever be."

"So you'll draw my blood?"

House shook his head. "Not until you get the symptoms… I don't want to infect you…."

Just then, Allison returned to the isolation room.

House assumed that she was visiting the chapel again.

Allison looked at House. He was awake! That was certainly good news, but the expression on Wilson's face was rather discouraging. "What's going on?"

"He wants me to draw his blood," said House as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Allison could sense anger in his voice, but she suddenly became both curious and worried. "Why…?"

"I have the virus," replied Wilson quickly.

"You do _not_," said House.

"Why would you think you have the virus?" asked Allison. Dr. Wilson was obviously an intelligent man, so there must be more to this story.

"One of my patients has the virus. She's had no other visitors."

House rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to yell at Wilson again, but instead of a loud shout bellowing from his mouth, a spout of blood fell from his lips.

Allison almost gasped, but she had been bracing herself for this. She closed her eyes as she tried to forget House's illness. It was too painful for her to watch… again. Instead, she turned to Wilson. "Let's say I get you that blood draw now."

Wilson heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much."

Allison nodded. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

House took a tissue and wiped his mouth. "What if she has the virus, huh? You could infect her, or she could infect you!"

Cameron looked at House smugly, though he couldn't see it as much because her mouth was covered by a mask and her eyes were protected by goggles. "According to _you_, no symptoms mean no virus, so we should be safe, right?"

House had only told those things to Wilson as a way to reassure him. He didn't actually believe them. "There are still risks."

"Well then, we'll be sure to take the proper precautions," said Allison as she guided Wilson out of the isolation room right as Lisa and her husband entered it.

"Was that James?" asked Lisa. "And… Allison?" She always forgot that name, but hopefully she'd gotten it right. Maybe she'd learn it now that they were roommates in a sort.

House nodded. "She's getting him a blood draw."

Lisa frowned. "Why?"

"He thinks he has the virus."

Lisa immediately panicked as she thought about their kiss. She looked at her daughter and made the same connections as Wilson.

"Lisa… what's wrong?" asked Mike. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close for comfort.

Lisa breathed heavily in panic. She couldn't tell them anything without telling Mike that she'd kissed another man. "Nothing… nothing, I'm fine." She controlled her breathing as best she could and gave Mike a forced smile. "I'm fine."

Mike nodded. "Good."

Lisa looked into the hallway as several nurses and doctors could be seen leaving their stations and signing out. How odd. Sure, it was getting later, but surely the nurses all had different shifts. That's when it hit her. "Why is _Allison_ drawing the blood?"

House looked through the glass walls and into the hallway as well. He saw the same things as Lisa and made his best assumption as to why Wilson had come to _him_ for help. "They're leaving," he said. "Two pathologists are already sick, and so are several nurses."

Lisa's jaw dropped. "It's their job! They _have_ to stay!"

She was right, of course, but what were _they_ supposed to do? They were stuck in an isolation room.

"Try to see it their way," suggested Mike. "Nurses, pathologists, doctors, patients! Everyone's getting sick! Why would they want to stay here?"

"Because they took an oath to do no harm!" shouted Lisa. "They're just leaving us here to die!"

Lily suddenly awoke upon hearing her mother's shouting and started to cry.

Mike's face turned red behind a layer of protection. "Try to keep your voice down, will you? She needs her rest." He went over to comfort his daughter.

"Sorry," mumbled Lisa. Her eyes were still on the glass wall. How could they just leave them here?

House saw her staring. "Oh, stop your worrying."

She was even angrier now. "But—."

"Look," said House. "Even if _everyone_ in this hospital left— and I highly doubt they will— we have two doctors in this room, plus Wilson and Allison!"

"Well that's just great," snarked Lisa. "One of those two doctors is deathly ill, and the other two very well _could_ be sick!"

"Well, then we still have you," smirked House.

"Yeah— because I can take care of five dying patients all on my own!"

House was about to shout back at her, but his own coughing prevented him from doing so. Lily's bawling was probably a sign that they should quiet down as well.

"Would you guys just give it a rest?!" asked Mike as he stroked Lily's hair. He looked into his daughter's eyes. "Don't worry Lily. It's going to be alright… Everything is going to be alright."


	20. Nineteen

**- 19 -**

"_As the growing epidemic continued to infect the staff, patients, and visitors of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, a call was made to postpone the final lectures of the Infectious Diseases Conference being held at their hospital." Several members from the audience huffed and rolled their eyes as they recalled having to find last-minute plane tickets out of New Jersey several months ago._

Eric Foreman and Marty Hamilton were pushed aside by the busy traffic in the halls of PPTH.

Many parents were having their children in Pediatrics transferred to other hospitals, and loved ones from every department were making quick trips to their cars for safety. Most nurses were fine with staying at the hospital, as were doctors, but they did _not_ want to have to attend to anyone in the isolation room. Terry, Donahue, Wilson, Andrews, and several brave nurses were given that job. Pathologists and lab technicians weren't so eager to stay at the hospital, though. Their constant work with blood and tissues had them fearing every test they ran, every culture they touched, even with protection. As a result, most of them used up their vacation days and decided to wait until the hospital was given the all-clear.

The Department of Infectious Disease was now incredibly short-staffed as many people took vacation days to get away from the virus. Andrews threatened to fire anyone who left after a certain point, but the nurses continued to take days off. Apparently their lives were worth more than their jobs. Andrews should have expected as much. Luckily, Terry, Donahue, and a few nurses remained. They were going to need some help, though, if they ever planned to beat this virus (or at least stop it from spreading to anyone else).

"Did you find a ticket online?" asked Marty Hamilton.

Eric Foreman shook his head in the negative. "I didn't look."

"What are you talking about?" asked Hamilton. "The planes are bound to be completely booked by now!"

Foreman nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Did you just plan to wait this thing out in a hotel room?" asked Hamilton.

Foreman shook his head again. "All their pathologists are leaving," he said. "They're short-staffed on nurses."

"That's probably because they have a deadly virus spreading through their hospital," joked Hamilton. "Come on, we have to go pack." He tried to pull Foreman along with him by the shoulder, but it didn't work. He stood his ground.

Foreman seemed to be in a daze, as if something were bothering him.

Hamilton was getting worried. "Eric… what's going on?"

"They need help."

Hamilton frowned. "Eric—."

"You go ahead," said Foreman as he stepped aside to let yet another person pass. "I'm going to stay here."

Hamilton knew there was nothing he could do to stop him. He looked sadly at Foreman, like it might be the last time they saw each other. He gave him a simple nod before patting him on the back. "Good luck," were his last words before he walked away.

Foreman nodded as he saw his boss and friend, Marty Hamilton, walking towards the doors of PPTH. "Thanks," he muttered to himself. "I think I'll need it."

Foreman was left standing in the hall, not really knowing what to do or where to go. Logic told him that they probably needed the most help in Pathology and ID, but he couldn't exactly go to a department and just start helping out, now could he? He finally decided to go and see the Hospital Administrator and Dean of Medicine, Dr. Andrews.

He knocked on Andrews' door and was immediately gestured in.

"How can I help you?" asked Andrews, obviously in a frantic mood. He was standing up, shuffling papers all around his desk.

"I'm Dr. Eric Foreman," he introduced himself. "I'm a neurologist from Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. I work with Mary Hamilton…."

"Oh yes, yes," said Andrews. "You're here for the conference! I think I remember seeing your name on the list." Andrews shuffled through his scattered papers once more.

Foreman nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sorry to tell you that the conference has been postponed until further notice," replied Andrews. "If you haven't noticed, we're kind of dealing with an epidemic here."

Foreman chuckled. "That's actually why I'm here."

Andrews' jaw dropped. "You aren't infected are you? Hold on one second! I'll get a nurse! BRENDA!"

"No, no, no!" said Foreman fanning his hands. What was wrong with this administrator? "I'm fine, I'm fine!"

Andrews heaved a sigh of relief as Nurse Brenda entered his office. He shooed her away. "Then why are you here, again?"

"I heard that you were short-staffed," answered Foreman. "I wanted to know if there was anyway that I could maybe help out in—."

"Oh thank god!" exclaimed Andrews. He ran from his desk and pulled Foreman by the shoulder. "Come with me, come with me!"

"Um, Dr. Andrews… are you okay…?"

Andrews looked at Foreman wide-eyed. "I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"Uh, no reason," he retorted quickly. "So what do you need me to do?"

"Would you mind working the lab tests? I think Dr. Wilson is in Pathology right now… you should go talk to him."

"Dr. Wilson?" asked Foreman. He had met him on the first day of the conference. "Isn't he an oncologist?"

Andrews nodded. "He has friends in the isolation room, and he's been monitoring all of the patients in there."

Foreman nodded. That must have been the reason that he hadn't been showing up to any of the lectures after the first day. "Thanks, I'll go talk to him."

"No, thank _you_," said Andrews as he shuffled away. "And leave your CV in my office, will you?"

"Huh?"

"I have a feeling once this is over, we'll be doing some hiring."

Foreman chewed on his lip. "Oh… yeah, sure, I'll leave a copy I guess."

"Thank you! You've been a great help!"

"Yeah, no problem," muttered Foreman as he watched the peculiar administrator scurry away. He dismissed his suspicions and headed in the direction of the elevator, which took him to the fourth floor for Pathology, Oncology, and soon-to-be Diagnostics.

Foreman knocked on Wilson's office door, but he wasn't in there. A glance in the isolation room told him that he wasn't with his patients either. Andrews must have been right in assuming that he was in the Pathology lab.

When Foreman arrived at the Pathology lab, though, he was presented with an unexpected sight. Dr. Wilson wasn't running cultures or lab tests. Instead, he was being tested on! Foreman walked into the lab to introduce himself to the female accompanying Wilson and see if he could be of any help.

"Dr. Wilson," he said with a smile.

Wilson smiled. "Uh… Eric Foreman, right?"

Foreman nodded. "Andrews has agreed to let me help out with the epidemic."

Wilson snorted. "Why wouldn't he? Ever since he made the announcement of Charles' diagnosis, this place has been a ghost town."

Foreman smirked. "He told me to come see you. He said you were taking charge of the Ebola patients?"

The gorgeous woman that Foreman had immediately noticed upon entry interrupted their conversation here, though. "Not for long," she said as she read over a paper in her hands.

Wilson looked up at her in worry. "It's positive?"

The woman nodded. "I'm sorry."

Wilson nodded. "It's okay… we can fight this," he said. "We can beat this."

Foreman was confused. Neither of them seemed sick at all. "What's going on?"

"He tested positive for the virus," sighed the woman.

Foreman chewed his lip. "Don't you guys have any other doctors?"

"We have Terry and Donahue," said Wilson. Foreman recalled meeting them at the conference as well. "We have a few nurses, too."

"What about Dr. House?" Foreman asked. He remembered seeing the grumpy doctor on his first day at the hospital.

"He has the virus too," said the woman. "There are three nurses and two pathologists in the 3rd floor DID with confirmed cases. The isolation room on this floor contains House, and two other people—A young girl and a 32-year-old man. I guess Wilson will be joining the patients on the 3rd floor now."

Wilson shook his head. "No way; I'm not leaving House and Lisa."

The woman narrowed her eyes. She knew that he was House's best friend, but Lisa? "Lisa's not sick…."

"She's going to be… and soon," replied Wilson. "I'm the only way she could have gotten this virus."

The woman nodded, wondering how Wilson could have made Lisa sick. "I guess we can make some space, but it's getting kind of crowded in there."

Wilson heaved a sigh. "Thank you," he said. "I want you to start me on an IV of saline for now, at least until I start getting the symptoms."

She nodded again as Wilson left the lab to get his own admission papers.

Foreman tried to remember seeing this woman at the conference, but she wasn't coming to mind. "Do you work here, too?"

She shook her head and held out her hand. "I'm Allison Cameron," she said. "I used to work with Sebastian Charles in Africa." She stressed the words _used to_. It was looking like after today, she wouldn't be making any trips back to Africa, and if she was, Sebastian and Joe wouldn't be able to join her.

Foreman frowned, suddenly regretting asking her the question. He shook her hand anyways. "Eric Foreman."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Foreman," she said timidly before walking out the same door that Wilson had moments ago.

Foreman paused for a second, wondering if he should follow her. He could think of nothing better to do, though, so he joined them.


	21. Twenty

**- 20 -**

"_Just as soon as more space was needed in the isolation room, more space became available. One of the Ebola patients died 11 days after admission, and another's symptoms progressed in a form different from those of the prior patients. The health of the third patient continued to decline as well. None of them seemed to be heading for a happy ending."_

Allison sat in the back of the isolation room between the beds of House and Joe. It had become very important to her to monitor every change in their conditions, no matter how subtle.

It was no easy feat, though, considering they were both getting sicker by the day. She knew that this was not going to end well for either of them, and she also knew that she would come out of this even more scarred than she already was.

The skin of both men now resembled a clean and rather thin sheet of paper. Allison could see every vessel in their bodies as blood shot through them and out every orifice. It was no pleasant sight for her to see, but the experience was even worse for Joe and House.

House and Joe were at a crucial stage in their illnesses. House had managed to keep his blood in a bit longer than the others, but that didn't stop the blood from escaping in his vomit and diarrhea. It could have been worse, though. It could be coming out of his ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and every hole you could possibly think of! Unfortunately, such was Joe's case. Blood dripped from every orifice and every pore. His organs were failing, and Allison knew that he was on the verge of death.

"Joe," she whispered into his ear lightly. She repeated his name and started shaking his shoulder lightly until he awoke.

Joe's eyes finally opened. He smiled at the lovely sight of Allison Cameron before him. "Ally…."

"Joe," she repeated. "Joe, do you want me to call Father Chase?"

"What are you talking about Ally?" he chuckled. "I'm doing great."

Allison frowned. "No, Joe, you aren't."

"I'm going to get through this, Ally, just watch."

Allison knew he was trying to encourage her (and himself) to hold on longer, but she knew it was a lost cause. "You're fever isn't going down, Joe."

"Don't worry; it will."

"It should be going down by now."

"It's going to go down, Ally." Joe closed his eyes and drifted back into a deep slumber.

Allison sighed again. Even during the death of her husband, Joe had always been the positive one. He had always been the one that said everything would be okay. Looking around the room, Allison wasn't so sure that she believed him anymore. So, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the hospital clergy office. She knew deep down, Joe really did know that he was dying. She always thought that receiving last rights was a waste of time, but she also knew that Joe believed in them. Right as she finished her call with Chase, a woman knocked on the glass wall. Allison was going to get up to talk to her, but Wilson was already climbing out of his bed. He apparently recognized the woman.

Wilson still wasn't presenting any symptoms, so it was easy for him to wheel his IV over to the wall to talk to the woman. "Stacy, what are you doing here?"

"I… I came to see Greg."

"Stacy, I said I would come get you when he reached the final stage."

Stacy peered over Wilson's shoulder at a sleeping House. She frowned at his horrible appearance. "Please, Jimmy, I really need to talk to him."

Wilson frowned. "Get a nurse to help you with protective gear."

Stacy nodded. "Nurse Wendy is on her way."

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "How did you know I would let you in?"

"I've found that I can be very convincing at times," retorted Stacy with a smirk.

Wilson rolled his eyes and returned to his bed.

Allison had overheard the whole conversation and was recalling the conversation that she'd had with House in his office. This must be his ex-girlfriend. This must be the woman that crippled him and left him because of guilt. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but something inside her made her desperately curious to meet this woman. She stood up from her seat and gently wiped the sweat from House's face with a wash rag as Stacy entered the room in full protective gear.

"Who are _you_?" asked Stacy in curiosity and in slight accusation. She watched as a woman whom she'd never met in her life washed away the sweat of the man she'd left only days ago.

Allison's heart skipped a beat and she quickly stepped away from the now-awakening House. "I'm just a friend… uh, Allison, I'm Allison."

Stacy nodded. She would have greeted her more properly, but House was opening his eyes. She rushed to his side and brushed her gloved hand across his face. "Oh god, Greg… Greg… you're—."

"Sick?" he finished the sentence for her.

"Greg, I'm so sorry."

House wondered if she was sorry for leaving him or sorry that he was sick. Either way, he didn't really care. Well, he did, but he tried his best not to. It just made it hurt even more. "I'm fine."

Stacy shook her head as tears fell behind her goggles. "No, Greg, you're not."

"I'm going to be okay, Stacy," he said. Sweat dripped from his face.

"Your sweat," she gasped and wiped it with her hands. She looked at her gloves. "It's orange."

Allison quickly jumped up from her seat and looked at the sweat on Stacy's glove. "He's bleeding."

"He's bleeding?" gasped Stacy again. "He's bleeding from his pores?!"

Allison nodded.

Stacy choked on the lump in her throat. "Is… is he going to die?"

Allison's face was blank as she stared at the floor, but her eyes didn't seem focused on any one thing. "His fever is at 104.1. His O2 stats and BP are dropping steadily, and his heart rate is at 92." Allison continued rattling off stats, but it didn't seem to be helping anyone but herself.

Stacy waved her arms to stop Allison from continuing. "What… what does that all mean?"

Wilson watched the encounter, interested by Allison's emotionless response. He interrupted them before Allison could say anything else about House's case. "The virus is progressing, Stacy."

"What does that _mean_?!" she shouted.

Wilson frowned. "He's going to die."

Stacy sobbed once more, but it was Allison who suddenly shifted from being emotionless to being enraged.

"Don't say that!" she bellowed into the isolation room. "Don't say that… not yet!"

Wilson frowned. "Allison, his fever is still rising." He kept his voice calm and quiet.

"That's okay," reasoned Allison. She tried to make sense of everything in her own mind. "He's going to be okay. He still has a few more days before his fever should start dropping anyways."

"Allison—."

"He has a few more days!" She couldn't lose anyone else. She couldn't. "He's going to be… fine."

Stacy was unsure who to trust now. Wilson had always been direct and honest with her, and this woman seemed to be acting on sheer emotion. Still, she _wanted_ to believe Allison. She wanted to know that Greg would live to see another day. She wanted to know that everything would be alright.

Allison was on the verge of hyperventilating. She needed to sit down, but she didn't have the chance. She dashed across the room as the sound of rapid beeping echoed through the room. "Get her out of here!" She pointed to Stacy and made a dash for Lily's bed.

Lily squirmed in pain as her BP rose. Her face tightened and winced.

"What's wrong with her?!" shouted Mike. He jumped to the side to allow Allison to do whatever necessary. "What's going on?!"

Lily's arms were flailing, and they finally gripped the sheets at her side. Unlike an ordinary child, instinct didn't tell her to curl or point to the pain. She laid flat on her back, squirming from side to side. Her fists turned white as her grip on the sheets tightened.

"She's experiencing abdominal pain," said Allison. "It's a typical symptom."

Mike and Lisa nodded in understanding. They clung onto each other for comfort, trying not to look as their daughter wailed in pain.

House sat up straight in his bed, though, ignoring his own pain as it shot through his leg and stomach. "Not _that_ much pain."

"You can't say how much pain one person feels," stated Allison.

House snorted. "Tell me about it."

Allison rolled her eyes as she hooked Lily up to IV acetaminophen.

"She's autistic," observed Wilson. He already knew it, but he was connecting links in his brain.

"How did you know that?" asked Mike.

Lisa buried her face in Mike's shoulder. "I… told him."

Mike didn't seem upset at all. "What does her autism have anything to do with this?"

"Some autistic patients are more sensitive to pain, some are less sensitive," explained House. "I guess we know which one she is."

Mike frowned. "She's in more pain… because she's autistic?"

"I'm sorry," murmured Allison. "I've put her on Tylenol, but because of her age, I'm reluctant to give her anything too strong."

Lily began to quiet down now, and she rolled over onto her side.

Allison was about to take a seat in her chair, but she was stopped again before she could do so.

"Dr. Cameron?" asked Mike. He lifted the back of his daughter's gown.

Allison looked at him expectantly.

"Is a rash typical of the virus as well?"

No, no it wasn't. She rushed back to Lily's bedside and raised her gown. Lily's back was covered in tiny red spots. It definitely looked like a rash at first glance, but Allison knew otherwise. "It's not a rash."

"Well, then was it?" asked Mike.

Lisa walked over to his side and looked at her daughter's back. "It's purpura."

"Purpura? What's that?"

"She's bleeding into her skin," said Allison.

"She's bleeding into her skin?!" Mike nearly shouted it in surprise.

Allison assumed that Lisa could explain it all to her husband, so she turned around to greet the man who just walked into their isolation room. It was Father Chase, dressed in protection as usual.

"Thank god you're here," she said. "He doesn't have much longer."

Chase nodded. "I can start right now." He held up the Bible in his hands—a Bible that he wouldn't be able to take out of that isolation room for safety reasons.

Just as Chase was about to start, though, the beeping began again. Lisa and Mike immediately looked up at Lily's stat monitor. She was stable.

Allison turned around and rushed to Joe's bedside. He was vomiting the thickest blood that Allison had ever seen. Thankfully, he managed to keep it all in his bowl. They needed clean living conditions more than ever now.

She looked up at his stat monitor. His heart rate was rising, but his BP was plummeting.

"What is it?" asked House, trying to get a better look at the bed next to him. "What's going on?"

"He's going into hypovolemic shock," she replied. Allison looked around for a nurse, an assistant, anybody. "You!" she shouted and pointed at Chase. "You, get over here!"

Chase hurried over to the other side of Joe's bedside. "What do you need me to do?" he asked.

Allison handed him the Ambu Medi-bag. "Just pump it heavily and rapidly."

Chase took the bag from her and put the mask over Joe's mouth. He started squeezing the bag just as Allison had told him to do.

Meanwhile, Allison drenched a sponge in iodine and rubbed it across Joe's neck. She grabbed a scalpel and slit the center of his throat. Allison slid a tube down his throat and completed the tracheotomy. She grabbed the bag from Chase and hooked it onto the tube. Then she handed it back to him. "Keep squeezing."

Chase did as he was told; he was intrigued by every action Allison took.

The beeping continued.

"What's his heart rate?" asked Allison. Her back was turned as she searched through an unfamiliar cabinet.

Chase looked up at the stat monitor, hoping he was reading the right number. "Uh… 106."

"106, 106," Allison repeated the number over and over. "Screw the drugs." She grabbed the defibrillators and charged them. "Charging… clear!"

Chase jumped back in surprise as she shocked Joe in the hopes that his heart rate would go back to normal. He looked at the stat monitor and tried to make sense of the situation. He had a low blood pressure, but a high heart rate. How could that be? "What's going on?"

"His body has lost too much blood," she said. She charged the defibrillators and shocked Joe again. "The brain needs more blood and is telling his heart to beat faster to get that blood to it."

Chase understood. "But there's no blood."

"He needs a transfusion and dialysis and—." She shocked Joe again.

"Allison...," House intervened.

"And he needs—." She charged the defibrillators.

"ALLISON!" House shouted this time, hoping to get her attention.

It worked, too. She turned to face House. "WHAT?!"

House just shook his head. Joe wasn't going to make it. He simply didn't have enough blood left. His organs were failing without the needed oxygen. "It's too late."

"It's _not_ too late!"

Chase stopped squeezing the bag though. He stepped back and bowed his head.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted at him.

"It's too late," repeated House.

"I'm sorry," sighed Chase. "I really am… sorry."

Two tears slid down Allison's face as she returned the defibrillators to their original place. She finally nodded in agreement and called the time of death.

Chase left the Bible on Joe's nightstand and left the room in silence.


	22. TwentyOne

**- 21 -**

"_As the epidemic continued to spread, resources became scarce. The few doctors who had decided to stay at the hospital began to fall ill with the virus."_

After days of feeling perfectly well, Wilson was finally showing the initial symptoms of the Ebola virus. He was exhausted, and he was swept by nausea upon every motion. Every muscle in his body was beginning to ache, and his head was no better.

Unfortunately, Lisa started mirroring the symptoms of Wilson three days later.

Foreman tied an elastic cloth around Lisa's upper arm and stuck a needle on the inside of her elbow.

"You think I have it, don't you?" she asked. "You think I have the virus."

Foreman held the vial steady as blood filled it. "It's possible."

Wilson had been expecting this for nearly a week now. He knew that he had given the virus to Lisa, and he knew that she had passed that virus onto her daughter.

The vials were full, and Foreman yanked the cloth off of Lisa's arm. "I'll get these to the lab and run the tests."

"Run the tests? There are no more pathologists?"

Foreman frowned. "There were, but they were admitted two days ago."

Lisa frowned. "They caught the virus, too?"

Foreman nodded. "They were taken downstairs to the DID."

Lisa nodded. "Well, thank you for your help…." It really meant a lot to her. This man was risking his life to save theirs.

Foreman cleaned up his supplies. "I'll be back with the results as soon as I can."

Foreman left the room, leaving Wilson, House, Allison, Mike, Lisa, and Lily in silence.

House looked over his shoulder at a sleeping Allison. The loss of her boyfriend seemed to have taken a lot out of her. She'd abandoned her book and stuck with the television lately. She said it was a quicker distraction. House could relate. He understood that desperate need for a quick distraction. Unfortunately, not even television seemed to be working very well for him these days. He turned over in his bed and picked up the bottle of pills on his nightstand.

Allison awoke to the sound of a pill bottle opening. She immediately held her hand to her head. "My head is killing me."

House poured two vicodin pills into his hand. "Gee, I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that you've been crying for the last three days."

She scowled at him. Of course she was crying! Her boyfriend just died, only a week after her best friend. What was she supposed to do? Brush it off and move on?

"Or maybe because every moment that you _aren't_ crying, you're sleeping," he joked. He popped the two pills into his mouth and took in the instant relief that they offered.

"Sorry for grieving," she said resentfully. "What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to _go home_."

Her jaw dropped. She stood up from her chair for the first time in three days. "Why would I go home?"

Their conversation was interrupted by Foreman reentering the isolation room. A nurse followed close behind him with a hospital bed.

Lisa frowned. That wasn't good news. "I take it the test came back positive?"

"I'm afraid so," he sighed.

The nurse handed Lisa a hospital gown to change into. Wilson looked away while she changed, but House snuck a little peak.

Foreman rolled the hospital bed against the wall next to Lily's. It was hard to look at the young child, pale and helpless. "You're lucky some space cleared up—,"

Allison choked on the lump in her throat that refused to go away.

"—or you would have had to sleep downstairs in the DID." He regretted saying it, now as he watched Allison start to cry again. Why was she still here anyways?

"Yeah," snarked Lisa, "I should consider myself lucky!"

Foreman snickered. "Sorry, I just—."

"It's okay," sighed Lisa. "I guess I'll live…." She looked over into the corner where Joe's bed used to be. "Or maybe not," she mumbled.

"I'll be back to check on you guys in a little while," said Foreman. "Terry and Donahue need some help downstairs." He left the isolation room again.

Mike wiped the sweat from Lisa's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick," she replied simply.

Mike smiled. She was always the sarcastic one in their family. "How could this have happened? You were no where near the lab or the Department of Infectious Disease… right?"

"Um… no," evaded Lisa. Mike was going to find out, wasn't he?

"Was it the lab? Were you in the lab with infected tissues?"

He was genuinely scared for her life, and that's what made this so much harder for Lisa.

"No," sighed Lisa. "I didn't catch this in the lab."

"Then how—."

"I kissed James," she said quickly. Her eyes closed at once; she was afraid to see Mike's (or anyone else's, for that matter) reaction to her confession.

After several moments of silence, Mike's voice was heard. "Who's James?'

Wilson raised his hand in shame. "That would be me."

"I thought you were Wilson."

"I'm… _Dr._ Wilson."

"Whoa, wait, Wilson is your _last_ name?!" Mike was astounded.

Wilson rolled his eyes. This really wasn't helping the situation, so he said nothing.

It seemed to help Mike come to realization as well. He slowly shifted his gaze back to his wife. "You… kissed… him?" He couldn't believe it! Well, actually, he could, and that's what hurt the most.

"Mike, I—."

"I can't believe you kissed him."

"I'm so sorry, Mike," she said with a frown. "It was an accident."

"Your lips _accidentally_ fell on his?"

"Mike—."

"I guess your tongue accidentally slipped into his mouth, too, right?"

"Mike, there was no tongue!" She was getting frustrated now.

"Oh, well, that changes everything," he huffed.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "It was an accident, and I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me?"

Mike shook his head in disgust and anger as he took a seat next to Lily's bed. He made sure to sit on the other side though, so he wouldn't be sitting between her and Lisa.

"Are you just going to ignore me, Mike?"

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Maybe she'd finally realize how much pain she'd caused him over the course of their marriage.

"Mike—."

Mike held his hand up. "I don't want to hear it."

Across the room, Allison couldn't help but think to herself that they were wasting valuable time together. Lisa and Mike had a good marriage, and they were both killing it from the inside. She would kill to have even that. She didn't have anyone anymore, and she was left to envy people whose marriages were falling to pieces. She knew it was pitiful, she did. She couldn't help it, though, because it was true. She was completely and utterly alone, and it was all her fault. She looked up at House. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he wasn't sleeping. His nostrils flared when he was sleeping, no matter how much he would try and deny it. He was all she had left in the world, and she barely even knew him. He barely even knew her.

Allison walked to a cupboard and pulled out a thermometer. She stuck it in House's ear.

"Ouch," he whined. His eyes shot open. "You could have told me you were going to—."

"You wouldn't have let me take your temperature if I'd asked you first."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." She smirked, but it didn't have the desired effect given that her face was still stained with tears.

House sat still and allowed her to take his temperature. When the thermometer finally beeped, she pulled it out of his ear. "Well?"

She smiled, and her heart almost skipped a beat. "102.7."

"102.7?" It wasn't possible.

"You still have a fever," she said. "But it's going to down."

He didn't want to get her hopes up, though. It would only make his death hurt her more in the end. "I still have one though, Allison."

She frowned. "Do you _want_ to die?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

Allison frowned. "Or do you just not believe in hope?"

"I _don't_ believe in _false_ hope."

"What if there's no other kind?"

House shrugged. "I believe that if you get your hopes up, then you're only setting yourself up to fall harder in the end."

"That's depressing."

"Not as depressing as you must feel right now."

Allison was angry now. "How dare—."

"You thought they were going to live."

"Stop—."

"You _knew_ they were going to live."

"Greg, please."

"And when they didn't, it just made it hurt even more." Point proven.

"Just shut the hell up!" she bellowed as she slammed her hands against his bed railing.

"Jeez," said House coolly. "What is your _problem_?"

"What is _your_ problem?" asked Allison. "I just lost the only two friends I have. And now, you want me to just accept that you're going to die?!"

"Yes," said House with a single nod.

Allison shook her head in disbelief. "You are unbelievable, you know that?"

"Trust me," said Wilson. "He knows." He had been watching the entire encounter carefully from across the room.

Allison rolled her eyes and sat back down in her seat with her arms crossed in frustration.

House couldn't help but wonder. "What are you still doing here?"

"I'm not giving up hope," she mumbled as she closed her eyes and lay back in her chair.

House rolled his eyes. She could be so girly sometimes.


	23. TwentyTwo

**- 22 -**

"_Ten patients remained now: An infectiologist, an oncologist, an endocrinologist and her daughter, four nurses, and two pathologists. The pathologists who had completed the autopsy on the host of the virus had finally passed away, and it was for that reason that the CDC prevented anyone else from performing autopsies or any sort of invasive procedure on the victims and deceased."_

Mike was still ignoring Lisa. He wasn't sure if he could deal with the fact that his wife had ignored him, kissed another man, _and_ infected their daughter with a deadly virus. How was he even _supposed_ to forgive her? For the time being, he focused all of his attention on the one person that meant more to him than the entire world: Lily.

He brushed the side of her soft cheek with his fingers. He wished that he could hug her, hold her, kiss her, and do all of the things that he used to be able to do with her. She was too frail and fragile, though, and he was too vulnerable. Lily's muscles were weak, and her head was no doubt in extreme pressure. She was starting to hemorrhage, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it, either. Her blood was incapable of clotting. Mike wiped the blood away from her face. She had such a pretty face, but the pallor made her look almost dead.

Lisa's heart sank as she watched her husband care so lovingly for their daughter, but completely ignore her. Of course, Lily was probably in more need of his attention, but the fact that Mike was still ignoring her hurt. Lisa was at a stage in the virus where her abdomen would contract and squeeze harder than she had ever felt it, and bloody vomit would pour uncontrollably from her mouth. Her fever was spiking to near 105 degrees, and her skin was getting paler and paler by the hour.

Wilson wasn't doing so well either. His fever was approaching 106, and his skin looked almost like a thin layer of plastic. It didn't seem to be of much protection to his body anymore, but it was. It was the only thing holding blood inside of him, unlike his orifices. Blood would drip occasionally from his ears, mouth, nose, and even his eyes. His fever had him in a constant delirium that could only be controlled by icepacks, cooling blankets, and the irresistible sleep. He wasn't asleep right now, though, because House demanded his company. Allison was sleeping at his side, again, trying to forget the deaths of her only friends.

"Why isn't Bonnie here?" asked House.

Wilson's eyes closed and orange sweat dripped from his forehead. Foreman placed an icepack on the top of his head. "I…." He coughed. "I never called her."

"What are you talking about?" House leaned back in his bed, trying to relax, but the pain wouldn't let him.

"She was mad at me," he said. "She was mad the last night that I saw her."

"You don't think she's wondering where you've been?"

Wilson thought about it for a moment. "Probably not…."

House was confused by this answer, so Wilson elaborated. "She probably doesn't want to see me anyways," he sighed.

House opened his eyes and looked at Wilson curiously.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said quickly. He didn't want House prying in his personal life… again.

House shrugged the best that he could in his condition. "It's probably for the best."

Now Wilson was curious. "What are you talking about?"

"Well think about it," said House. "If you _hadn't_ been fighting with Bonnie that night, and if you _hadn't_ told her that you didn't want kids, then you guys might have—."

Wilson waved his hands in disgust. "Not the time, House!"

House shrugged. "I'm just saying that maybe she was better off this way."

One look at Lisa, and Wilson was actually thankful that he had such a crappy marriage. If he hadn't been fighting with Bonnie that night, then she might be on her death bed at that very moment.

House couldn't help but think the same thing of Stacy, though. If she hadn't broken up with him that night, then he could have been the cause of her death. He wasn't sure if he could live with that. And that's when he looked at Allison.

Allison was drifting in and out of sleep on the chair next to House's bed. She was covered in layers of protection, and yet House could still sense her beauty. He just wished that she could be stripped of all that protection. The first time that he'd met her, her silky brown hair curled down over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled in the light, and now they just seemed lifeless. Staying in this hospital was draining all the life from her, and he couldn't bear to watch it. He couldn't be the cause of such pain. What's worse, he had no idea why he cared so much, and that scared the hell out of him. He nudged her shoulder.

Allison quickly awoke. "What—huh?" She blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the bright hospital light. The hallway outside was much darker, and much of the staff had gone home. She looked up at the clock. "Oh my god," she gasped. "It's almost 10:00! I forgot to take your temperature!" She jumped up from her chair, but stumbled upon doing so.

"Are you okay?" asked House skeptically.

She nodded. "Oh, it's just my knees… you have no idea how hard it is sleeping in a chair for over a week!"

House flinched as she stuck the thermometer in his ear. "What are you still doing here?"

"I told you," she said firmly. "I'm not giving up on you… on any of you."

"Your friends are dead."

She frowned. "They died from this virus, and I'm going to do everything in my power to stop it from killing any one else."

"I assure you that it _will_ kill someone else."

Allison rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'm doing everything in my power to stop it from killing any of you."

House looked around the room, wondering how many (if any) of them would really survive this. "All you're doing is putting yourself at risk."

"I can't just leave you guys here like this." The thermometer beeped, and she pulled it from his ear. She grinned. "101.6!"

House ignored the good news. "God, you really _do_ have a death wish, don't you?"

Allison gasped. "I'm just trying to help!"

"There's nothing you can do!" shouted House. "We're going to die. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you come to terms with that, the easier it will be!"

Allison's voice lowered. "I can… do my best to make it less painful."

House rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being stubborn."

"Oh you're one to talk!?" She chuckled in anger. "You want me to go?!"

"I _don't_ want you to kill yourself!" As much as he liked her company, he knew that her presence here was suicidal.

"Fine!" she shouted as she stormed towards the door. "I'll go!"

House, Wilson, and Lisa watched as Allison walked into the conjoining room and stripped of all protective gear before storming out and down the hall.

Allison accidentally bumped into Foreman as she sped down the hall. Foreman, who had been holding a cell phone in his hand, immediately dropped it during the collision.

"Dr. Foreman," she gasped in shock. "I'm so sorry. I was just, I—."

"It's okay," said Foreman. He looked at her oddly. "Where are you going?"

Allison glanced back at the isolation room behind her and sighed. "I have no idea." With that, she left Foreman and continued on her path down the dark hospital corridor.

Foreman picked his cell phone back up and made sure that the caller was still on the line. "Hello? Dad? – Yes, I'm still here. I accidentally ran into another doctor. – No, I don't know when I can fly back. – What do you mean Marcus was arrested? – Drugs? No way…. – No, Dad, I can't come home _now_! – I know Mom needs me, but I can't. People here are _dying_, Dad." A beeping noise in the distance startled Foreman. "Dad, I've got to go. I'll call you later. Bye!" He quickly shut his phone and ran into the isolation room.

"It's Lily!" shouted Mike at once.

Foreman suited up as quickly as possible and dashed into the room.

"What's going on?" asked Mike in fear.

"She's going into shock," said Foreman quickly. "Her body doesn't have enough blood, and her organs aren't getting the needed oxygen." He turned Lily over onto her back and placed the bag over her face and began to pump oxygen steadily into her lungs.

"It's not working!" coughed Lisa. "You need to trach!"

Foreman hesitated, though. The CDC had told them not to do any invasive procedures on them for risk of spreading the virus. It was also dangerous to make patients bleed when they were incapable of clotting.

"Do the tracheotomy!" shouted Lisa, straining her voice to the limit.

Foreman grabbed a scalpel from the tray next to him and began to cut, but it was too late. Right after the scalpel punctured her skin, she flat lined. Foreman dropped the scalpel and exchanged it for defibrillators. He sent shocks into Lily's body, but none of them seemed to help. It was too late. She was gone. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Lisa and Mike answered his apology with tears and moans of sorrow.

Foreman couldn't handle it anymore. He walked into the conjoining room and removed his protective gear before strolling aimlessly down the same corridor that Allison had not too long ago.

He didn't know where to go or what to do anymore. His family needed him, but something deep down told him that his place was here in the hospital. Something deep inside told him that it was his job to save these people. He didn't know what to believe anymore, though. He wasn't saving anyone; they were just slipping away… one by one.

He finally thought of a place to sit and think things over: the chapel. Usually there was nobody in there, but tonight, there was someone.

Foreman took a seat next to Allison in the pew.

"Lily died," he said bluntly, but sadly.

A solitary tear slid down Allison's face as she heard the bad news.

They could both hear a phone being hung up in the clergy office right before Father Chase joined them in the chapel. "What are you two doing here? It's late."

_He didn't seem like his usual inspirational self_, thought Allison. "I have no where else to go. I can't go back there now!"

"They need you," said Chase.

Allison shook her head rapidly. "He's right," she mumbled.

"Who's right?" asked Chase.

"Greg was right," she mumbled. "We aren't saving anyone."

"We're just risking our lives," added Foreman. As he listened to Allison, he didn't feel so alone.

"He was right," she said again. "They're all just going to die anyways."

"Stop saying that!" shouted Chase, probably too loudly. He coughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry… I just…." He seemed distracted. "You can't give up hope."

Allison shook her head. "But he… he was right."

"No he's not," said Chase firmly. "He's not dead _yet_, is he?"

"No," Allison stuttered. "But he's still right."

What a stubborn girl!

Allison's lifeless eyes twinkled as she spoke about her past. "My husband died of cancer. I knew he was terminal when I married him," she said. "And I married him anyways. I thought that… I thought that it would help him. I thought that he shouldn't be alone, but it didn't make any difference in the end."

"I'm sure you made his last few months much better," reasoned Chase dully.

"How could I?!" gasped Allison. She shook her head in hysterics. "I… I slept with his best friend. How could I?"

Foreman was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"And I thought that I could make my relationship with _him_ work," claimed Allison. "But every moment that I looked at Joe, all I could think about was… was my dead husband. How could I have cheated on him while he was laying there on his death bed?!"

Chase didn't know what to say now. He didn't know how to comfort the hysterical woman. So, he just sat down next to her.

Allison continued her rant. "But Greg was right… It didn't matter anyways. My husband never found out. And it didn't work out with Joe anyways." She sobbed at the memory of their deaths.

"House is _not_ right," said Foreman confidently.

"Yes he is!" shouted Allison. "I tried to save them, but they died anyways. I tried to save all those people in Africa, but they died anyways!"

"What?" Foreman asked. "You think we should just stop trying to save lives? No offense, but it's _what we do_!"

Allison didn't have an answer, so she just cried.

"You can't stop," said Chase. "You can't give up. Those deaths… they weren't your fault."

Allison wiped the tears from her face.

"If you hadn't tried to save them, if you had just given up… you'd just feel even worse."

Allison snorted. "Well I feel pretty damn bad right now."

This earned a probably inappropriate laugh from both Foreman and Chase.

"Don't give up," repeated Chase.

Allison and Foreman both nodded. They couldn't give up, they wouldn't.


	24. TwentyThree

**- 23 -**

"_Although the infectiologist was beginning to recover, the same could not be said for any of his roommates, including the immunologist."_

Six days after Lily's death and Allison's sudden departure found House sitting perfectly upright in his bed. His fever was just below 100 degrees now, and the only pains in his body were those in his leg and heart. It troubled him to see his two best friends in such pain.

Both Wilson and Lisa were hemorrhaging now. Mike was doing everything he could to keep the blood inside of Lisa, no matter how mad he was at her. Foreman was doing everything he could to save Wilson. Yet, House got the sense that neither of them would be saved.

As he shifted around in his bed to view the empty chair where Allison once sat, he got an uneasy feeling. What if he was the only one to survive this?

House chewed on his lip briefly before climbing out of bed, quite clumsily I might add, and walking towards the conjoining room outside the isolation room.

"House, what are you doing?" called Foreman from Wilson's bedside. Everyone looked up at him in shock.

"I'll be right back," he said simply. He opened the sliding glass door and limped into the decontamination room.

Foreman darted after him and banged on the closed door. "You can't do this, House!"

"Relax," said House calmly. "I'm clean, see!" He presented his now decontaminated body. Even he knew, though, that he still wasn't completely clear to leave.

"You haven't been given a health screening!" shouted Foreman. "You don't know if the virus has really cleared your system for sure!"

"Fine," said House with a roll of his eyes. He clothed himself with a gown, goggles, mask, gloves, and haircloth. "I promise not to touch anyone."

"Where are you going?" coughed Wilson.

"I said I would be right back!" repeated House as he walked away.

Foreman considered chasing him out the door and bringing him back, but then he realized how much Wilson needed his help. House was a doctor. He knew what precautions to take, right?

Of course he did, but that didn't stop House from leaving the quarantined area for his own convenience. He couldn't bear to watch as his two best friends slipped closer and closer to death, and he needed to find the one friend that he had who was healthy.

He knew Allison didn't really have the heart to leave them all there. Sure, maybe she avoided the isolation room, but she was still here somewhere. House had a feeling he knew exactly where, too.

Allison was in the same place that she always was: the chapel. She was alone, like she always was. And she was beautiful, like she always was.

Greg took a seat next to her in the pew without even a greeting.

She greeted _him_ though. "Greg." It was barely whisper.

"How are you doing?" he asked her, his voice not even as loud as hers.

Allison hesitated before she could even say a word. How _was_ she doing? She didn't really know, to tell the truth.

"You're looking better," he said optimistically.

"We're going to die here, aren't we?" Allison's voice was steady, calm, and blunt, much to his surprise.

"Probably." Greg's voice was just as calm and blunt as hers.

She nodded slowly as Greg pulled her into a reassuring hug. "There's no reason to cry, Allison."

Allison clung to Greg for dear life. "I'm not crying."

Startled, they both pulled away from the hug, and House jumped up upon seeing Allison's face.

Her pale but pretty face was stained with tears of blood. She wiped them away from her face.

"Allison—," began House. He didn't know how to finish the sentence though. "When?"

"I thought you were right." She cried more blood-stained tears. "I thought it was just the crying. I thought it was just the... the sleeping." She sobbed in fear for her own life as she held her pounding head in pain.

House sat back down next to her and rubbed the bloody tears away with his gloved hands. "Allison, you're bleeding. You have to stop crying."

Allison hiccupped and tried to stop crying, but it was so hard.

"I need some help in here!" shouted House.

"What are you doing here?" asked Allison, almost in a daze. "You're sick. You can't be out here."

House felt her forehead. "Jesus, Allison, you're burning up!"

"I'm fine," she said as her eyelids fell closed.

House called for help again, and this time it came.

Chase emerged from his office quickly and ran to House and Cameron's side. "What's going on?" It wasn't long before he saw Allison's bloody face though. He reached out to help her, but House pushed his hand away.

"Don't touch her!" he said frantically. "Do you want to get _yourself_ infected?"

Chase backed away. "What do I do?"

"Go get Dr. Foreman," said House. "He should be in the isolation room still."

Chase stood up and started running out of the chapel.

"Hurry!" shouted House. He held Allison in his arms to prevent her from rolling off the pew and bleeding all over the carpet.

Chase dashed down the hall, and it wasn't long before he returned to the chapel with Foreman and a gurney at his side.

Foreman and House loaded Allison onto the gurney. House and Chase followed Foreman and Allison back to the isolation room as quick as they could.


	25. TwentyFour

**- 24 -**

"_The first survivor of the New Jersey 2007 Ebola outbreak was the infectiologist. A screening confirmed that the virus had completely cleared his system, but the news wasn't quite as good for the other patients. Unfortunately, survival became nearly impossible at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."_

House's fever finally disappeared, and Foreman officially released him from the isolation room the day after Allison was admitted.

House no longer worked at PPTH, but there was no way that he could leave now. There was no way that he could leave his only friends while they fought for their lives.

Foreman advised House that it was unsafe for him to be working in the isolation room, but House didn't care. Allison had sat at his side while he was sick, and he was going to do the same for her.

Lisa's fever eventually began to drop, and she was eventually released six days after House. What should have been a joyous day quickly turned into the worst day of her life, though, when Mike left her. Apparently, he couldn't stand to look at the woman who had both kissed another man _and_ caused the death of their only daughter. It seemed like the only people she had left in her life now were her two friends, Greg and James. And so, she sat faithfully at their sides.

Wilson's condition wasn't improving like Lisa's had, sadly. Foreman eventually had to hook him up to a respirator to keep his organs from suffocating.

Unfortunately, Allison wasn't doing too well either. Her reluctance to have herself admitted (which Foreman and House were very mad about, by the way) and late diagnosis had damaged her kidneys severely. Of course, sufferers of this disease normally end up with completely liquefied internal organs, so she was lucky to only have damaged kidneys.

Allison awoke, once again, to the sound of a pill bottle opening. She had always thought that Greg was taking those pills because of the pain from the virus, but he was healthy now. "Why do you take those pills?" she asked. She knew it was because of his leg, but she also knew that there was more to the story than he was telling her.

"My leg hurts," was his only answer.

Allison coughed fiercely. "I don't remember you taking them before you had the virus."

"Wilson's been prescribing them ever since my leg was crippled." This girl was too nosy for her own good, and House didn't like it one bit.

Allison shrugged lightly. "I guess I just never saw you take them before."

"Well then you haven't seen me in _pain_." House twiddled the bottle in his fingers.

He was in pain now, but not then? What had changed? He was healthy now. Allison dismissed the puzzle as a wave of nausea overpowered her. She vomited into a bowl that House had conveniently set on the side of the bed that he _wasn't_ sitting on. She frowned. "There's blood in my vomit."

House chewed on his lip. He kind of _knew_ that there would be blood in her vomit, but that advanced knowledge didn't seem to comfort him. "Your blood isn't capable of clotting. You're starting to hemorrhage."

Allison rolled her eyes. "I _know_ that."

House shrugged. "_Sorry_."

Allison frowned. "I didn't mean to snap, I just—."

House shrugged nonchalantly. "It's no problem."

Allison was confused. He really _didn't_ seem to have a problem with her sudden outbursts. Maybe it was because she'd learned to adjust to _his_. She was about to thank him for his patience with her, but the lights went out.

"Dammit, House," complained Foreman. "Turn the lights back on!"

House stood up from his seat and looked around the room. "It wasn't me."

Lisa got up from her chair as well and looked around. "The power went out."

Allison started to panic, but House calmed her.

"Don't worry," he said. "The hospital has an emergency power system."

House watched as Wilson's chest fell and rose rapidly as he struggled to get air.

"How long does the emergency power take to come on?" asked Lisa. She was new to the hospital and had never experienced a black-out here.

"It should have come on by now," said House.

This caused Allison to start worrying again.

Father Chase, who had offered to help them out for the duration of the epidemic, spoke up. "What are we going to do?" He seemed almost as worried as Allison now.

"I could go down and check the electrical system," suggested House.

Foreman put a mask over Wilson's mouth and began to manually pump air into his lungs. Without power, none of the medical equipment was working. "Don't you guys have electricians… custodians?"

"They left," said Lisa meekly. "They said that cleaning up vomit was too risky for them or something." She gave an unsure shrug.

"Chase, you're coming with me," said House.

"Wait," said Chase. "How are we supposed to get in there? I mean, aren't the doors locked or something?"

Everyone in the room cast each other worried glances.

"I've got an idea," said Foreman. "Chase, you take this."

Chase walked over to Foreman and took the mask from him. He began pumping oxygen into Wilson's body. He was definitely getting the hang of all this doctoring stuff.

"I'm going to need a screw driver and a bobby pin," said Foreman.

Lisa pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and handed it to Foreman. "What are you going to do?"

"We're going to break in," said Foreman. "Anyone know where we can get a screwdriver?"

"I'm sure there's one in the Diagnostics Department," suggested House. "I mean, the place is still under construction. They're bound to have left some tools around, right?"

Foreman nodded as he followed House into the decontamination room.

"Wait!" shouted Lisa. "What do _I_ do?!"

"Make sure Allison doesn't die," House quipped as he and Foreman made their leave.

If the power was out too long, there was no doubt in any of their minds that a majority of the patients in the hospital could die.

Wilson would fail to receive the needed oxygen, and he would go into multi-system organ failure.

Without the necessary dialysis, Allison would go into acute renal failure and die.

House and Foreman would have to hurry.


	26. TwentyFive

**- 25 -**

"_When a power outage struck Princeton-Plainsboro, recovery seemed unreachable for the Ebola patients, or any patient at the hospital for that matter. Still, they fought."_

Foreman and House rummaged quickly through the remaining tools in the Diagnostics Department. When House finally found a screwdriver, he handed it over to Foreman.

Foreman darted out the glass door quickly, but House didn't follow him, and he quickly noticed his absence. Foreman turned back and found House staring out the large window.

"What's going on?" asked Foreman.

"Look," said House. He pointed out the window. "Everybody else has power."

Foreman looked out the window and saw a city full of light. He frowned. "The problem is just in our hospital," he said. "Maybe it'll be easier to fix, then."

House shrugged, almost doubting that logic. Nonetheless, he followed Foreman out of the department. They took the elevators to the basement.

x - x - x

Chase continued to pump oxygen into Wilson's lungs, hoping that enough of it was getting through to his organs. In Wilson's condition, there probably wasn't enough blood in his body to deliver the oxygen anyways.

Allison's body was beginning to feel the effect of the growing toxins in her blood. Fatigue overcame her, and she was beginning to feel even sicker than she had in a long time. It wouldn't be long before she went into shock. Her body was delivering toxin-filled blood to already unhealthy organs. On top of that, her hemorrhaging was causing her to have a lack of blood. It was only a matter of what would kill her first.

"Is this working?" asked Chase. "He doesn't seem to be getting better."

"Just keep squeezing that bag!" snapped Lisa. She searched her mind for something that she could do to help Allison.

"Why isn't he awake?" asked Chase.

"He's tired," said Lisa. She knew that Wilson was probably unconscious at the moment, though.

"He doesn't seem like he's sleeping," commented Chase. He opened Wilson's eyelids. "Don't your eyes move when you're sleeping?"

"Close his eyelids!"

"Sorry," said Chase quickly and he continued to pump the bag. "Why isn't this helping him?"

"He doesn't have enough blood to deliver the oxygen to all of his organs."

"Like Joe."

Lisa nodded, and tears fell down her face as she recalled Joe's outcome. "Just keep squeezing that bag."

Chase nodded. "What's wrong with Allison?" He had become very fond of the pretty girl who often slept in the pews of his chapel and came to talk to him when nobody else was there.

"Her kidneys aren't cleaning her blood," she said. "And there's also not enough blood to deliver oxygen to her body."

Chase frowned. "What can you do to help her?"

"She needs dialysis, but we can't give it to her until the power comes back on."

This upset Chase even more.

Lisa panicked. "Why aren't you pumping that bag?!"

Chase came out of his daze and started constricting the bag once again. "I'm sorry, I just—I—."

Lisa frowned. There was something wrong. "Chase… what's going on?"

Chase wiped the sweat from his forehead as he continued to fill Wilson's lungs with oxygen.

x - x - x

House and Foreman finally arrived at the electrical system, and as assumed, the doors were locked.

Foreman kneeled down on the ground and gathered his tools. He jiggled one, then the other. It looked like a magic trick to House.

There was a click, and Foreman finally got the door unlocked.

"That was amazing," House joked. It really was amazing, though.

"Come on," was Foreman's only response. He entered the large electrical room and looked around for any problem. "Do you see anything?"

House moaned. "Yeah."

"What is it?" Foreman turned around to find House holding two ends of a wire. They were chewed in half. "Dammit."

"There are more of them over here," said House. He picked up more wires that had been chewed in half.

Foreman walked over to the 'eaten' section of the electrical system and examined it. "We can fix this. We just have to reattach the wires."

They set out to do so, pulling small metallic wires out of their rubber holders and reattaching them. Of course, they were wearing rubber gloves to protect themselves.

They were almost done reattaching the wires when House stopped. He heard a squeaking noise.

"What is it?" asked Foreman.

House shushed him as he stood up and gripped his cane like a weapon in one hand.

"What are you doing?"

House shushed Foreman again as a rat appeared among the wires. House stared at him malevolently for a moment, and the rat just tilted his hide to the side in innocence.

House tilted his head to the side also, curious about the mouse's odd gesture.

Foreman saw the rat as well. "Just hurry up and kill the damn thing before it chews through any more wires!"

House snapped out of his daze and hit the rat on the head with his cane.

"Come on," said Foreman. "There's only a few more. Thank god he didn't go through the whole place. There would have been no way we'd have been able to fix it."

House sat back down on the ground and started reattaching wires with Foreman. Hopefully they would finish in time.

x - x - x

Lisa frowned as Chase told her about the news that had been haunting him for several days. He apparently hadn't talked to anyone about it until now.

"I'm sorry about your dad," she said.

Chase nodded. "It's just…."

"What?"

"He died of cancer."

"That must have been a terrible way to go."

"Yeah," said Chase. "But he must have known, too. I mean… he must have known that he was going to die."

Lisa was confused.

"He never even told me that he was dying. He just… died."

"I'm sorry, Chase," she repeated. "But you can't let your own emotions distract you from doing your job."

Chase shook his head. "My job? I'm not a doctor. I'm a _priest_, remember?"

Lisa sighed. "I know, but right now, your job is to save _his_ life." She motioned her head towards Wilson's still body. "Do you think you can do that?"

Chase looked at Wilson. It wasn't _his_ fault that his father had never told him about his death. He looked back at Lisa and nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Good," said Lisa. "Now if we could only find a way to—."

Her statement was interrupted when Terry and Donahue walked into the isolation room.

"What are you guys doing here?" asked Lisa. "You should be downstairs! Those patients need your—."

They both shook their heads.

"They're gone," cried Terry. "They didn't make it." She wiped a tear from her eye.

Donahue sighed. "We checked the ICU, to see if they needed help."

The look on his face wasn't promising, though. "And?" asked Lisa in fear.

"The nurses there are doing everything they can," he said. "But most of their patients have already passed away."

Tears fell down Lisa's face again.

"We wanted to see if you guys needed any help," said Terry. She looked around the room. "Where's House? I would have thought that he'd be here still. And… Dr. Foreman, right?"

Lisa nodded. "They went to fix the electrical system. Can you get me some type O blood?"

Terry and Donahue nodded. "How much do you need?"

Lisa looked at Wilson and Allison again. "A lot."

The two infectiologists sighed heavily as they left the room to complete their task.

Realization suddenly hit Lisa. "Wait… Chase… Chase…."

"What?"

"Your dad wasn't… _Rowan_ Chase, was he?"

"You knew him?" Chase was amazed.

"I think most of the people in the medical field knew him," replied Lisa. "He was a great doctor."

Chase frowned. "Yeah, I know."

Lisa looked at Chase. He still wasn't telling her the whole story. "What is it?"

"He didn't want me to be a priest," he said. "He always wanted me to be a doctor."

Lisa shrugged. "It's your life, not his. You did what you wanted to do."

Chase looked carefully at Wilson. "I'm just not so sure anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I always wanted to become a priest to help people," he said. "And it seems like I only help people when I'm with _you_ guys."

"I'm sure you've helped a lot of people, Chase."

Chase shook his head. "No…."

Lisa chewed on her lips. She didn't really know how to comfort Chase when she was such a mess herself.

Right as Terry and Donahue arrived with the packs of blood, the lights flickered on.

Lisa, Chase, Terry, and Donahue all laughed in ecstasy.

"Oh thank god," said Lisa. She made sure that Wilson's respirator and Cameron's hemodialysis were functioning properly. They were.

Several minutes later, House and Foreman returned to the isolation room.

"We don't know how long it'll last," said Foreman.

"We called the electrician to have him fix it properly," added House. He looked at Allison and Wilson, prepared for the worst. "How are they doing?"

"They're okay," said Lisa. "Well, as good as we could have hoped anyways."

House's heart skipped a beat in excitement. They were still alive; they were still here with him.

House couldn't express how thankful he was to have his two best friends, Lisa and Wilson, still with him.

Heck, he had only met Foreman, Allison, and Chase about a month ago, and still he was thankful to have them in his life. He hoped that it would stay that way.

This virus had completely changed all of their lives, but was it for the better or worse? House liked to think that it was for the better.

By some twist of fate, this disease had brought them all together.

**The End**


	27. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Several months later, Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital welcomed guests once again for their Infectious Diseases Conference with the assurance that they would, in fact, finish _every_ lecture this time (unless of course an epidemic hit again, but that would be very unfortunate).

The lecture hall was practically full as doctors went over their notes again and again before having to go on stage.

House, who had been named the new Head of Diagnostics, was in the audience. He usually didn't attend these things, but a friend of his was speaking today. Of course, House would have never made it to Department Head without his two best friends.

Lisa, who was still recovering from her divorce and the death of her only daughter, was eventually given a position on the board. Andrews had resigned after the epidemic, saying that he wanted a_ slightly_ less stressful job. So, Lisa applied for the position of Dean of Medicine, but she was still waiting to hear back on that.

Without having to worry about Bonnie, Wilson was also offered a seat on the board and the transplant committee. It suited him well, he thought. Now all he had to worry about was his job… and of course, House.

As the new Head of Diagnostics, House even got to choose his own staff! He immediately offered Foreman and Allison (who now preferred to be called Cameron at work) jobs in his department. They took them.

Chase eventually discovered that priesthood was not for him. Aside from the fact that he missed being with women, he also realized that he would rather help people by saving their lives. So, he left the priesthood and went back to graduate school, this time to study medicine. He was offered an internship in the Department of Diagnostics at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Seeing as his father cut him out of his will, Chase was desperate for the money and accepted the job.

Allison was just thankful to be out of Africa, where everything reminded her of Sebastian and Joe. Of course, she originally left America to forget about her husband, but she figured that it would be better this way. She would come to terms with their deaths in time. And in the meanwhile, she had a low-paying job with co-workers that she liked and a boss that she liked even more.

Foreman's family was upset that he had decided to accept a job in New Jersey. Foreman knew deep down, though, that it was the right thing for him to do. He was never meant to support his own family. His real dream in life was to become and excellent doctor. That dream seemed more obtainable now, more than ever, as he approached the podium and began his lecture on the Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever.

"Thank you all for being here today," he began. "I'd like to start off by relaying the accounts of a very horrifying epidemic that took place several months ago at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."


End file.
